Harry Potter and the Island of Death
by The 18th Angel
Summary: (Formerly Harry Potter and the Killing Game) The Hogwarts Sixth Years find themselves trapped in the deadliest of games. Forty Players, Three Days, One Rule... Kill or Be Killed (Battle Royale Crossover)
1. Class List and Chapter One

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ was written by J.K. Rowling and published by Scholastic. _Battle Royale_ was written by Koushun Takami, published by Ota Shuppan. The english language version was published by Viz. I own neither. I think I've done all the legal butt-covering I can here. 

Notes:

I read _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ and fell in love with J.K. Rowling's world. It's big, grand and a lot of fun. I read _Battle Royale_ and fell in love with Koushun Takami's world in an entirely different way. It's dark, oppressive and no fun at all, but it's supposed to be.  So yeah, they're not the most immediately logical worlds to crossover, but I've seen it done at least once before. And though I've never tried to write a fic in either world, let alone a crossover (I've tried to avoid them for fear of mucking it up) for some reason this came to me and I couldn't get the idea out of my head. Since I have to write what occurs to me no matter how improbable it seems, I'll just have to get this one out of my system as quickly as possible. To sum up, _Harry Potter_ is about the choices we make growing up, _Battle Royale_ is about how quickly we can turn on each other under pressure. This fic probably won't end up being about either. That said, I am trying to make this fic more than simply killing of H.P. characters in interesting ways. I'll be trying to explore my own opinions on the characters and capture the horror of Battle Royale at the same time. If it doesn't turn out the way I'm hoping...well nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Oh and if/when your favorite character buys it...deal, don't whine. 

When I compiled the Sixth Year class list for this fic there were some holes. Following the 5 boys 5 girls per house per year pattern left me in need of some names. So I hit the Harry Potter Lexicon. Whenever possible, I tried to fill the gaps with characters who were definitely in that house in the 90's. After running out of those, I went to characters whose houses were not made clear and put them wherever they were needed. In some cases I also had to invent first names. If any of these characters contradict cannon, I apologize. I have marked them with '*'s in the class list.

For some reason, this story vanished off FFN and they have not (as of this writing) bothered to tell me why. There are two possibilities. 

1) Someone didn't like the violence in this story and decided to report it as 'abusive' and get it taken off. This seems unlikely because I don't think that the violence in this story is anywhere near graphic enough to be worthy of deletion by the admins. But I can't completely dismiss the possibility.

2) In order to present the story in what I felt was a more artistically pleasing manner, I had these notes in a separate chapter. So that could be why. In either case, then they should at least tell me why my fic was removed, my account blocked, and my reviews lost. 

In any case here's the fic, reposted in the hopes that it will not be taken down again, and updated.

*   *   *   *   *  
  
*   *   *   *   *

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Year Six Class List

      Males

RAVENCLAW

 1. Boot, Terry

 2. Corner, Michael

 3. Cornfoot, Stephen

 4. Entwhistle, Kevin

 5. Goldstein, Anthony

SLYTHERIN

 6. Crabbe, Vincent

 7. Nott, Theodore

 8. Malfoy, Draco

 9. Dorny, Jacob*

10. Goyle, Gregory

HUFFLEPUFF

11. Finch-Fletchley, Justin

12. Hopkins, Wayne

13. Smith, Zacharias*

14. Stebbins, Jonathan*

15. MacMillan, Ernie

GRYFFINDOR

16. Weasley, Ron  

17. Longbottom, Neville

18. Finnegan, Seamus

19. Potter, Harry

20. Thomas, Dean

      Females

RAVENCLAW

 1. Patil, Padma

 2. Turpin, Lisa

 3. Brocklehurst, Mandy

 4. Li, Su

 5. Bradley, Susanna*

SLYTHERIN

 6. Bulstrode, Millicent

 7. Davis, Tracey

 8. Greengrass, Daphne

 9. Parkinson, Pansy

10. Zabini, Blaise

HUFFLEPUFF

11. Jones, Megan

12. Midgin, Eloise*

13. Abbot, Hannah

14. Bones, Susan

15. Moon, Allison

GRYFFINDOR

16. Brown, Lavender

17. Patil, Parvati

18. Granger, Hermione

19. Perks, Sally-Ann*

20. Frobisher, Victoria*

*   *   *   *   *

*   *   *   *   *

Part One: Prologue

**40 Students Remaining**

*   *   *   *   *

      "Hey Harry, mind if we sit here?"

      Harry Potter (Male Student 19, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Gryffindor House, Year 6) looked up from the battered copy of 'Quidditch Through the Ages' that he had been reading. Ginny Weasley stood in the doorway along with her current boyfriend, Dean Thomas (Male Student 20, Gryffindor). There were two seats left in the compartment - the others were occupied by Harry's friends Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom (Male Student 17, Gryffindor) - so Harry nodded.

      "Sure, come on in."

      "Thanks," Dean said as he and Ginny squeezed in across from Harry. "Everything else was taken."

      "No problem," Harry said, "How was your summer?" Harry had meant to visit the Weasley's over summer break as usual, but, as was also usual lately, Professor Dumbledore felt it would be safer for him to stay with the Dursely's where he was safe. Clearly, Dumbledore considered life with Muggles who hated magic folk in general and Harry in particular to be safe. On the other hand, Harry had to admit that for the first time in a long time, he had gone all summer without any run-ins with Lord Voldemort and Co. Though after the events of last year, Harry wasn't entirely sure that hiding under a rock was how he wanted to react to the steady regrowth of the Dark Side. But, again as usual, decisions concerning his own life were, for some reason, not his to make. So he had gone all summer with only vague letters to tell him what was going on with the Order of the Phoenix. And he had been bored. Dear God had he been bored.

      "We didn't get to go out much," Ginny said. "Mom and Dad have been pretty paranoid since last year. Plus Dad spent most of the summer at work. Some new law the Ministry wanted to pass that he was fighting. We did get to spend a few weeks with Fred and George, though."

      Harry smiled. He had seen the Weasley Twins' joke shop in Diagon Alley the day before when he bought his school supplies, but he hadn't had much time to look around. It certainly seemed like it would be an amazing place to spend a few weeks. But something else Ginny had said struck him. After all the trouble with the Ministry last year, any law that Mr. Weasley was against was something Harry wanted to know as much as he could about.

      "What new law?" he asked.

      "I don't know," Ginny said with a shrug. "He wouldn't talk about it. But he did say that Dumbledore was against it too and that he just hoped that would be enough to defeat it."

      "Did it pass?"

      Ginny shrugged again. "If it did, the paper didn't say anything about it."

**40 Students Remaining**

      The train reached the station just after sunset. A trace of orange glow still hung over the mountains. As always a fleet of horseless carriages waited to take the students to the school.

      "First Years this way! First years!" Harry turned at the sound of the voice. Where Hagrid usually stood, guiding the first years into the boats, instead was Filch, the caretaker.

      "That's funny," Harry's best friend, Ron Weasley (Male Student 16, Gryffindor) said, coming up behind him. "Where's Hagrid?"

      "Maybe he's ill," Hermione Granger (Female Student 18, Gryffindor) suggested from next to Ron.

      "Maybe," Harry said, though he had never known any situation, short of not being present, to keep Hagrid from what was perhaps his favorite duty, giving new students their first look at Hogwarts.

      A little worried about Hagrid, Harry followed Ron and Hermione to the carriages where another surprise awaited them.

--Attention Students!--

As part of Educational Reform Act No. 68, all carriage seating will be separated by year from now on. 

Sit only with members of your own year. 

A faculty member will be present to enforce this rule.

      "What kind of rubbish is that?" Ron wondered. "Since when does it matter what year we're in?"

      Harry looked around. Sure enough, Professor Snape was there, docking points from anyone who tried to mix years on a carriage, even members of his own House, Slytherin.

      "Ron," Hermione said, "Educational Reform Act 68! Isn't that the one your father was against this summer?"

      "You're right," Ron said, "They must have passed it after all."

      "And this is it?" Harry asked dubiously. "Seems a little petty for your dad _and_ Dumbledore to be fighting it."

      "Hurry up, Potter," Snape said. "Pick one and get in." He seemed just as venomous as ever, but there was something else in his voice, something Harry couldn't quite place. Before Snape could take points from Gryffindor, Harry, Hermione, and Ron hurried into the nearest empty carriage. They were alone in the carriage for only a minute or so before Snape's voice rang out again.

      "I don't care whether you like it or not, Mister Malfoy. That is the only available seat, now go!" A moment later, Harry's least favorite person in the entire world, Draco Malfoy (Male Student 8, Slytherin) stepped into the carriage. 

      "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Ron said.

      "Trying not to gag from seeing your ugly face, Weasley," Malfoy replied snidely as he reluctantly sat down next to Harry.

      The trip to the castle was oppressively silent. With Malfoy around, no one felt like talking. Everyone just stared out the windows. Harry thought they should be nearing Hogwarts by now, but he could not see the lights of the castle through the window, only darkness. He turned to mention this to Ron and Hermione, only to find them fast asleep. And next to him, Malfoy was out as well. Before Harry could process this, a wave of drowsiness hit him. He tried to fight it, but darkness settled over him. Just before he lost consciousness, Harry caught a glimpse of Hogwarts in the night, but it was far off, and they seemed to be heading away from it.

**40 Students Remaining**

      The carriages stopped at Hogwarts and the students disembarked, still wondering about the new grade segregation. Ginny stepped out of her carriage and looked around for Dean Thomas. She had seen him get on the carriage next to hers along with Neville Longbottom, and Parvati Patil (Female Student 17, Gryffindor) and her twin sister Padma (Female Student 1, Ravenclaw). But now, looking around, she couldn't seem to find any of them. Figuring she could meet up with Dean later, Ginny shrugged and headed into the feast.

      The Great Hall was set up for the start of term feast, as always. But Ginny could tell immediately that something was wrong. A large section of Gryffindor's table was empty. Ginny counted ten students missing, including Dean, Hermione, Harry, and her own brother Ron. In fact, counting more closely, Ginny realized that all the sixth year Gryffindor's were absent. And it wasn't just the Gryffindors, either. Every house seemed to be missing its Sixth Years. A chorus of confused whispers and murmurs arose throughout the hall. Clearly she wasn't the only one who had noticed something amiss.

      Looking up at the faculty table. Ginny realized that the absence of the entire Sixth Year student body was not simply odd, but sinister. The professors all had a look in their eyes. Most did their best to hide it, but something was haunting all of them. Professor Flitwick, always cheerful, now looked unnaturally somber. Professor McGonagall actually seemed on the verge of tears, especially when her eyes fell on those forty deserted seats. And Hagrid...Hagrid wasn't even trying to act normal. It was all he could do to keep his sobs somewhat quiet.

      Finally, as Filch led the nervous First Years into the Hall, Professor Dumbledore stood up. Immediately, the whispers died and silence prevailed.

      "Welcome back, students," Dumbledore said, his grave tone of voice the final bit of proof that something was drastically wrong. "I have only one announcement before supper. As I am sure you have noticed, a number of students who should be here with us...are not. For reasons I am...not permitted to divulge, the Sixth Years will not be joining us tonight...or ever again."

      A shocked murmur rippled through the crowd. What did he mean 'or ever again'? Had the entire Sixth Year class been expelled? What was happening? However, the murmur quickly died as the students looked up at their headmaster, expecting an explanation that never came.

      "I ask that family members of Sixth Year students report to my office immediately following the Sorting Ceremony." That was all. Without another word, Dumbledore sank back into his chair and McGonagall, trying to keep her voice steady, read out the names of the First Years. But it was difficult to hear over Hagrid's crying and the renewed whispers of the remaining students.

      As soon as the sorting was finished, Ginny got up and, with the few other students who had siblings in the Sixth Year, followed Dumbledore to his office.

      "I know you all must be worried sick about your brothers and sisters," Dumbledore said, getting started right away. "Sadly I cannot comfort you. Instead, I must inform you...that in all likelihood your siblings are already dead, or very soon will be." The other children in the room gasped or cried out in shock and disbelief. If it were anyone else telling them, they would have taken it for a cruel joke. But Dumbledore was known above all else for his honesty. "Your parents have been notified of all the details and are on their way here as we speak, but I wanted to tell you personally and express my sincerest sympathy."

      "Sir..." Ginny raised her hand. Even though it was Professor Dumbledore telling her, she could not believe that she would never see Ron again. "What's happened to them? Is it V...You-Know-Who?"

      A shadow passed over Dumbledore's face. "Ah...Miss Weasley..." he said quietly, and with more than a little bitterness, "If only it were that simple."

**40 Students Remaining**

      Someone was shaking Harry awake. It was Ron, and Hermione was with him. Harry sat up and looked around. He was lying on a cold tile floor covered with what a thin sheet of clear plastic, surrounded by classmates in various levels of consciousness. 

      They were in a classroom. Not one of the classrooms at Hogwarts though, this looked like a Muggle school, a bit like the one Harry had attended before leaving for Hogwarts. Looking around, Harry saw the rest of the Gryffindor Sixth Years, along with the Sixth Year students from all the other houses. Everyone seemed to be waking up. As more students awoke, the room grew progressively louder with people questioning their situation.

      "What's going on?"

      "Must have fallen asleep..."

      "...missed the feast?"

      "...isn't Hogwarts, is it?"

      Harry looked questioningly at Ron and Hermione.

      "What happened?"

      "Dunno," Ron shrugged. "I fell asleep on the carriage. Next thing I knew, we were here."

      "Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked.

      "Yeah," Harry said as his friends helped him to his feet, "Just confused." He suddenly noticed something different about Hermione. She wore some kind of strange necklace. It was a thick band of metal that encircled her neck, with what looked like a small lcd screen in the front, directly beneath her chin. She definitely hadn't been wearing anything like that on the train. Gaudy jewelry wasn't really Hermione's style. Looking away from Hermione, Harry saw that Ron also wore one of the strange necklaces. In fact, all the students had one. Harry didn't need to examine his own neck to figure out that he was probably wearing one as well.

      "What are these necklaces?" he asked.

      "They were on us when we woke up," Hermione said.

      "I tried to take mine off but it's bolted in the back," Ron added. "Would have tried Hermione's unlocking charm, but our wands are gone." Harry checked for his own wand. Sure enough, it had disappeared from the pocket where he usually kept it.

      "So we're stuck here," Harry said.

      "Naturally begs the question," Ron said, "where is 'here'?"

      "Well this looks like a Muggle school," Harry said, glancing at the windows. "Anything outside?"

      "We don't know," Hermione replied. "The windows are all covered. It looks like someone put sheet metal over them."

      "Is that...normal in Muggle schools?" Ron asked.

      "No..." Harry said, looking nervously at the blocked windows. "It's not..."

      "And what's with the plastic on everything?" Ron wondered.

      Before Harry could answer, the sound of a lock turning came from the door. The room immediately fell silent. A moment later, the door swung open and three people stepped in; two wizards and a witch. The men were large and sullen. They wore dark black robes and held their wands at the ready. The woman walked between them, dressed in a conservative skirt blouse and vest combo. Her brown hair was tied in a tight bun and she wore thin glasses framing a cold face. Two holsters hung at her waist. One contained a wand of some light-colored wood. The other held a rather large pistol. Only a few students besides Harry seemed to be upset by the sight of the gun; he figured most of his classmates probably didn't know what it was. The woman made her way to the front of the classroom and leaned against the teacher's desk. The two men stood at attention beside her.

      "Good evening students," the woman said in an inappropriately cheerful voice. She frowned when silence greeted her. The cheerful edge drained out of her voice as she snapped at them: "I _said_ 'Good evening students'!"

      A few mumbled 'good evening's arose from the students.

      "Well, that's a little better," she said. "Now then, I am Professor Phalanx, your new teacher. As you've all noticed, you have been taken from your normal classes. You are in a new school now; _mine_."

      "Ex...Excuse me...Professor?" All heads turned to the source of the small, timid voice. Hannah Abbot (Female Student 13, Hufflepuff) had her hand raised, though said hand shook uncontrollably.

      "Yes, Miss...Abbot?" Professor Phalanx said, consulting a list on the desk.

      "Why...why are we here?" Hannah asked.

      "A very good question. And one with a very simple answer." Phalanx said. Then she smiled. It wasn't a warm smile, or even a faked friendly smile. It was the smile of someone who knew they were doing something horrible, and loving every minute of it. She smiled, and then she spoke.

      "You're all here to kill." You could have heard a pin drop in France, so deep was the shocked silence that settled over the room. But their new professor wasn't done yet. "And, with one exception, you're all here to die. You've been brought here to kill one another."

**40 Students Remaining**


	2. Chapter Two

Part Two: Game Start

**40 Students Remaining**

*   *   *   *   *

      No one spoke. For a long moment, it seemed as if no one was even breathing. Then someone laughed, a high, startled, disbelieving laugh. It came from Michael Corner (Male Student 2, Ravenclaw). He was one of the smartest guys in their year, and now he seemed on the verge of breaking down.

      "Something amuses you, Mister Corner?" Professor Phalanx arched an eyebrow. Michael's laughter immediately died.

      "It's a joke, right?" he said. "Kill each other? It's gotta be some kind of sick joke!"

      "Is that what you think?" she favored him with another one of those chilling smiles. "Let me assure you; this is no joke. This is the Ministry of Magic's final solution."

      "Solution to what? What have we ever done?" Hermione blurted out.

      "Ah, the delightful Miss Granger. I'd heard you might be a problem."

      "Solution to what?" Hermione refused to be intimidated, even by a woman with a wand _and_ a gun.

      "To the sad, sorry state of the entire Magical community." Professor Phalanx said. "I'm sure you know we are not what we once were. And it's because of worthless children like you lot. I've heard about all the trouble you kids caused last year. Well you may or may not be please to know that you are not the only ones. All over the world, young witches and wizards are losing respect for their elders. Cutting class, breaking rules, endangering themselves and others with reckless stunts. The situation must be dealt with. Harshly and permanently. So the Ministry, in cooperation with other Magical governments, passed a new law, Educational Reform Act No. 68. Or as some of us like to call it, the Battle Royale Act. It's very simple, every year, one Sixth Year class will be chosen at random from every school of magic in the world to participate in the Battle Royale program. You're class has been selected for the inaugural program."

      "I don't understand," Hermione said. "How is killing us supposed to solve anything?"

      "First of all, Miss Granger, _we_ are not going to kill you. You are going to kill each other. Second, the point is for your deaths to serve as a deterrent to others. We predict we'll only need to run Battle Royale a few times, make sure students know that they have as good a chance as anyone of being selected, and they'll fall back in line. Fear can be a powerful motivator, after all."

      "You monster!" Lavender Brown (Female Student 16, Gryffindor) stood up, pushing her chair out of the way. "How could anyone do this?"

      "It's your own faults," Phalanx replied calmly. "Nothing else seems to reach you kids, so we've had to get...drastic. Of course you won't be around to appreciate the lesson, but you will make a powerful example for others."

      "Professor," Draco Malfoy (Male Student 8, Slytherin) raised his hand.

      "Yes, Mister Malfoy?" Phalanx asked.

      "You said 'with one exception' we were all here to die," Malfoy said.

      "Very observant of you Mister Malfoy," Professor Phalanx said, "Well, obviously there will come a point when only one of you is left alive. We will, of course, not ask that lucky individual to commit suicide. The last student left standing gets to go home."

      "One more question, Professor," Malfoy said.

      "Yes?"

      "Will we be able to use our wands?"

      Everyone turned toward Malfoy. Most of the students had been expecting him to try and weasel his way out of this death game, not that they could blame him. His fellow Slytherins were probably assuming he would come up with some brilliant plan to get everyone out, or at least all the Slytherins. No one expected him to ask about the rules as if he was planning on going along with all of this. But a moment later, Harry got over his shock. He should have guessed that if anyone was willing to kill their classmates it would be Malfoy.

      "No, your wands have been confiscated and will not be returned except to the eventual winner," Professor Phalanx said. "And I warn you not to use any kind of magic to try and escape from the game. Now if there are no further questions, I will explain the rules."

      She pulled her wand out of its holster and waved it at the dry erase board in the front of the classroom. An image swam up out of the board, an island drawn in multicolored ink. Little blue waves moved across the board, representing the ocean. The island was shaped a bit like a crescent moon. The points faced south, giving the island the disturbing appearance of a frowning mouth. 

      "We are here," Phalanx waved her wand, placing a glowing red 'X' near the center of the island, "in the public high school of a small island town off the coast of Scotland. This island will be your battleground for the next three days. The original inhabitants have been evacuated. You may go anywhere except back to this school. Which brings me to the collars you're all wearing. They're actually Muggle technology, enhanced with a few spells here and there. They are waterproof, shockproof, immune to all forms of magical interference, and impossible to remove, except by a qualified Ministry Artificer. And I wouldn't suggest that anyone test me on this point. Meddle with your collar too much and it will explode."

      A dozen or so pairs of hands immediately dropped from their owners' collars.

      "These collars serve a number of functions. They let us track your movements so that we can follow the progress of the battle. They monitor your pulse so we can keep track of who is alive and who is dead. Finally, they allow us to make sure you keep fighting."

      With another wave of her wand, she placed a grid of squares over the map of the island.

      "The island is divided into various zones designated by a number and a letter, A=01, B=01...you get the idea. Starting at 7:00 A.M. and every two hours from then on, one of these zones, chosen at random, will become forbidden. Any living student caught in a Forbidden Zone will have their collar detonated automatically. So hiding out is not an option, you must keep moving to stay in the safe area; and that area will grow steadily smaller as the game progresses. This area, B=4, will become Forbidden as soon as the game begins, so as I said, you may not return to this school once we are underway. And should any of you try to escape, we can cause your collar to explode. Finally, if twenty-four hours pass without a death, or if there is more than one student left alive seventy-two hours after the start of the game, _all_ of your collars will detonate automatically. Just so we're all clear on this; there is no escape. The only way out is to be the last student left alive. Any questions so far."

      No one spoke up.

      "If you have any questions, you had better ask them now, you won't get another chance." A pause. "Or do you still think this is all some kind of joke? Very well, then. Inside each of your desks is a sheet of paper, a quill, and some ink. Take them out and write the following: 'I will kill...' and fill in the name of a classmate. Continue in this manner until you have every other student's name on the page."

      Harry was about to pick up the ink, trying to remain clearheaded in the midst of this horror, trying to come up with some way out, when a bottle of ink flew across the room and smashed against the wall. He looked around, along with everyone else, to see Justin Finch-Fletchley (Male Student 11, Hufflepuff) standing next to his desk, glaring hatefully at Professor Phalanx.

      "I won't do it!" he said firmly, "I won't write that! And you're crazy if you think you can make me kill people!"

      "Are you saying you won't participate in the program?" Phalanx asked nonchalantly.

      "Did I stutter?" The whole class was aghast, watching Justin's every move with a mixture of awe and terror, they had never seen him act so resolutely.

      "Consider this very carefully, Mister Finch-Fletchley. No one is exempt from this game. Are you absolutely sure you won't participate?"

      "What can you do if I say 'no'?" Justin half-laughed, "Kill me?"

      "Actually," Phalanx said, her hand drifting down toward her waist, "yes." In a flash, she pulled her gun out of its holster and fired. 

      The shot filled the entire room. Students screamed and fell out of their chairs trying to duck. Some of them had never seen a gun before, but the explosive shot left no doubt of what it was capable of. But the sound was only half the terror. When the screams had passed and the echoing gunshot faded, a small, breathless squeak came from the seat behind Justin's, where Pansy Parkinson (Female Student 9, Slytherin) had suddenly been bathed in something red. It didn't take Harry and the others long to figure out what that something was. Justin teetered for a moment, then toppled over into the aisle. He landed face-up, giving everyone a clear view of the gaping hole that dominated the center of his forehead. From the back of his head, thankfully hidden from view, a puddle of dark crimson spread across the plastic-covered floor.

**39 Students Remaining**

      Professor Phalanx covered the rest of the class with her smoking gun.

      "Is there anyone else who would like to abstain from this program? I trust you are all now quite convinced of the reality of your situation?" She smiled at them. "Then pick up your quills and write."

      Harry felt like he was going to explode. How could this be happening? He had seen death before, but not like this. That...bitch had just blown Justin's brains out, as casually as turning off the kitchen light. It was insane!

      "Mister Potter," Harry felt his heart drop into his sneakers as the hot metal of the gun touched the back of his head, "I was wondering if you'd cause trouble. I suppose you think that being the famous Harry Potter should exempt you from this program."

      "N-no Professor," Harry said, fighting equal measures of fear and anger to keep his voice level.

      "Then write."

      He had no choice. He was, quite literally, powerless. Hating himself all the while, Harry picked up his quill and wrote. 

      'I will kill Draco Malfoy.'

      The hot metal left his neck. 

      "Very good, Potter," Phalanx said. "Now continue, and don't forget to include your little friends as well."

      Harry kept writing, there was no other choice, but the longer he went on, the harder it got. Eventually, with the page almost full, he found he could not continue. There were two lines he simply could not bring himself to write.

      "Potter..." Professor Phalanx gestured with the gun. "All the way now."

      _If she kills me, I can't get us out._ Harry thought to himself. _I don't have to do it; I just have to write it_. He picked up his quill...

      'I will kill Hermione Granger.'

      'I will kill Ron Weasley.'

      His horrible task completed, Harry laid down the quill. 

      "Well, now that we have that out of the way, there's just one more thing to go over," Phalanx signaled to the two men, who had remained still and silent through the entire proceedings. They waved their wands and a pile of black nylon duffle bags appeared by the exit.

      "You will exit this classroom by student number, alternating boy/girl. As you leave you will each take the top bag from the pile. Each bag contains a map of the battleground, a compass, a watch, a flashlight, food and water, and a weapon. Now, these weapons are randomly selected. There are guns, knives, bludgeoning weapons, and a few surprises. You might luck out, or you might not. Most of these are Muggle weapons, so take a moment to read the instructions and familiarize yourself with your weapon. Oh and one other thing. Included with your map is a copy of your class list; you may want to use it to keep track of the casualties. I will make announcements four times daily, at 6:00 and 12:00, telling you which of your classmates have died in the past six hours and giving you the next three Forbidden Zones. Any questions?"

      There were none. Behind and to the left of Harry, Pansy Parkinson sniffled, trying not to look at the corpse of Justin Finch-Fletchley, which still lay at her feet. Further back someone gagged and vomited. But no one asked questions. Harry, meanwhile, was trying to keep thinking on his feet. He had hoped they would all leave together; that way he could rally the others together. Leaving one at a time would make that difficult at best. He would have to rethink things a little. Assuming they started with number 1, nearly the entire class would leave before him.

      "Very good," the Professor continued. "The game begins as soon as the first student exits this building. Other than those we have already gone over, there are no rules. Feel free to do whatever it takes to win. Some of you may wish to team up. That is perfectly fine, a good strategy even. But remember that friends are as much a liability in this game as an asset. You can team up all you want, but understand that in the end only one of you can leave this island alive. Remember that." 

      She checked her watch. 

      "Well if there are no further questions, let us begin. It is 1:32 A.M. Your seventy-two hours begin now. You will leave in two minute intervals," Phalanx said, reaching into a small bowl on the teacher's desk, she pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it, "starting with...Boys No. 10, Gregory Goyle."

      Goyle stood up shakily. He had lost all of his macho posturing and looked simply like a frightened child. He stumbled up front, took the top bag, threw a last desperate glance at Malfoy and the other students, and then disappeared into the hallway.

      Two minutes passed and then Blaise Zabini (Female Student 10, Slytherin) took her bag and went out into the game. Every two minutes, another student took their bag of goodies and headed out into the night. The pace kept up, the pile of bags growing ever smaller. And then...

      "Boys No. 16, Ron Weasley."

      Ron stood up steadily, determined not to let any fear show. As he walked by Harry's desk, he looked down at his best friend. The look in his eyes was like nothing Harry had ever seen, desperate and fearful, but also full of defiance. Harry knew then, as if there had been any doubt, that he could count on Ron. Ron would never play the game. Together, they would beat this thing, just like they always did.

      'Wait for me,' Harry mouthed silently. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron nod ever so slightly. Professor Phalanx did not seem to notice. Ron picked up his bag, glaring hatefully at the Professor and her guards. Then he took off down the corridor. Harry wished he could leave at the same time as Ron, but that wasn't possible. Ron would wait for him if he could. And even if something forced Ron to leave, Harry and Hermione would still be entering the game almost simultaneously. Unless of course something made her leave in the two minutes between their departures.

      "Girls No. 16, Lavender Brown."

      On by one, the Gryffindors left. Whenever possible, Harry tried to signal them to meet him outside. He was pretty sure Parvati Patil (Female Student 17, Gryffindor) caught it, but Neville Longbottom was so terrified that he barely made it up to the front of the classroom, he certainly didn't see Harry trying to covertly get his attention. He would just have to rely on Ron to gather the ones he missed once they got outside. As Seamus Finnegan (Male Student 18, Gryffindor) made his way past Harry - too preoccupied to see his signal - someone placed a folded piece of paper on Harry's desk. Surprised, Harry looked around. Hermione caught his eyes and winked. Quietly, making sure no one saw him, Harry unfolded the paper. It seemed Hermione had ripped a corner off of her 'I will kill' list and written him a note.

      'I'll wait for you.'

      Before Harry could respond, Hermione's name was called. Like Ron, she made sure not to betray the slightest fear as she stood, took her bag, and left. And then it was Harry's turn.

      "Boys No. 19, Harry Potter," Professor Phalanx called.

      Harry pushed his chair back and stood up. He took what, for all he knew, might be his last look at his classmates. Then, before Phalanx could shoot him for dawdling or something. He ran to the door, grabbed the top bag on the pile, and sprinted down the hall to the exit. First order of business: meet up with Ron and Hermione, along with any others they had managed to recruit. Second: gather everyone else they could. They had to stay together to beat the system and get out of here alive. But first things first, get out there and meet up with...

      An empty courtyard.

**39 Students Remaining**

      The school sat in a sunken courtyard, roughly three meters below ground level. A concrete blacktop with four basketball hoops stretched out in front of him. At the end of the blacktop, a set of concrete stairs led up out of the courtyard. Harry looked around, but saw no one. It didn't make sense. He knew Ron had gotten his message, and Hermione had given him a note. They had both agreed to wait and meet up. They wouldn't have split, would they? Unless there was some reason they couldn't stay...

      That thought had barely filtered through his mind when something fell at his feet with a dull, metallic *clink*. Harry, having been subjected to far too many of Dudley's action movies, knew better than to waste time looking at the object. He had a pretty good idea what it was. He kicked the metal ball one way and ran the other. Sure enough, an instant later the hand grenade exploded. Harry had thought he was far enough away, but as the force of the blast threw him off his feet, his left arm lit up with fiery pain. Harry fell to the ground. He could tell he was bleeding, but he had to get up. He had to run.

      "Don't move, Potter!" a familiar voice rang out.

      Harry staggered to his feet. Gregory Goyle (Male Student 10, Slytherin) stood near the school doorway. In his hand he held another grenade. He had pulled out the pin and was holding the clip on. All he had to do was let go, say by throwing the grenade at Harry for instance, and it would be armed. And then it would explode, and there was no way he could dodge this one.

      _Is that it? Ten seconds in and I'm dead? No chance to gather the others, no escape...just blown to bits._

      "Listen to me, Goyle," Harry said desperately, backing away as covertly as possible, not that he had anywhere to back into except a steep concrete embankment. "We don't have to do this, we can all get out together, we just have to..." He stopped as the back of his foot hit something. Looking down, he saw that he had nearly tripped over the outstretched hand of Eloise Midgin (Female Student 12, Hufflepuff). He hadn't seen her before because she was hidden around the corner of the school building. She lay face down, with three bullet holes in her back. She was dead.

      "Goyle...you...?"

      "That's right," Goyle finished for him. "Took me a while to figure this Muggle thing out; all the others got away, even that fat lump Longbottom, but she was too slow. I ran out of bullets but fortunately, Eloise got these bomb things."

      "Why? How could you..."

      "You heard the lady," Goyle said, aweing and terrifying Harry with how calm he could be given the circumstances. Then again, his father _was_ a Death Eater. Did the apple really fall that close to the tree? "The only way out of here is to kill everyone else."

      "What about Malfoy? You going to kill your boss?"

      "Of course; that's the game. But it's you I'm really happy about. Can you imagine how proud my father will be when he finds out I killed the famous Harry Potter? How proud Lord Voldemort will be?"

      "You're crazy, Goyle," Harry said. "You can't do this."

      "Enough stalling!" Goyle snapped. "Gotta get you out of the way before the next one comes out."

      "Too late," a girl's voice said from the door. An aluminium baseball bat swung out of the darkness and struck Goyle straight in the back of the head. From then on, everything seemed to move in slow motion. Goyle crumpled, revealing Sally-Ann Perks (Female Student 19, Gryffindor) behind him, brandishing her bat, an open duffle bag at her feet. As he fell, the grenade slipped from his hand; the clip popped out and bounced off the wall of the school. Sally-Ann smiled nervously and called out to Harry. 

      "Harry! Are you all right?"

      "RUN!" Harry cried, but it was too late. The now-active grenade landed between Goyle and Sally-Ann. Harry could only turn his head away from the inevitable. The explosion engulfed both the unconscious Goyle and Sally-Ann, still wearing her smile of triumph even as the shrapnel tore into her.

      Part of Harry wanted to stay, but he knew that there was nothing he could do for either of them. They were dead. And Eloise Midgin was dead. And he was exposed standing out here. How many others had chosen Goyle's path? How many people were playing the game? He wanted to wait for Dean Thomas to come out, but suddenly it didn't seem worth the risk. Instead, cradling his own burned and shrapnel-ridden arm, he grabbed his weapon bag and ran up the stairs and away from the school as fast as his legs would carry him.

**36 Students Remaining**

      Hermione Granger (Female Student 18, Gryffindor) huddled in a drainage ditch a few-hundred meters from the school building. She was fairly sure that she had made it out of the starting area, so she wouldn't be in danger when it went forbidden soon. And she seemed to have lost Goyle, though maybe he was still loitering around the school waiting for new victims. It was only by blind luck that she hadn't fallen victim to him just two minutes earlier.

      When she got out into the courtyard and found none of the other Gryffindors there, she knew something was wrong. That immediately led to knowing that she had to get out of there, fast. The school that had been their starting area turned out to have a design very similar to the primary school she had attended before Hogwarts. Most of the students probably went up the stairs right in front of them  to get out, but there should be another set of stairs on the opposite end. She turned and ran to go around the school building...and tripped on the bullet-riddled body of Eloise Midgin. Then a shot rang out, the bullet cracking the pavement right next to Hermione's head. She scrambled to her feet and ran, but she managed to catch a glimpse of Goyle chasing her with an automatic pistol. Fortunately she was much faster than the hefty Slytherin. She got around the building and up the back stairs with no further shots fired. When she found the empty culvert for draining stormwater out of the streets she hid down inside it and tried to collect her thoughts. So far no luck.

      First, at least one person was playing the game, and he was ambushing people as they came out of the school. Second, she hadn't heard the shots that killed Eloise, which meant that some kind of soundproofing charm must have been placed on the building. Third, Harry would be coming out right after her, and walking straight into Goyle's trap. Quickly, Hermione opened her duffle bag, looking for a weapon. There was the promised map, compass, and flashlight, stored in a waterproof plastic bag, a few bottles of water, three or four hard rolls, and...a stake? She pulled a short, wooden tent stake out of the bag.

      "Well this would be absolutely smashing if I needed to save Harry from a _Vampire_!" she muttered to herself. 

      Suddenly, an explosion rang out back at the school. Not a gunshot, it was more like a bomb had gone off. Hermione checked her watch. Exactly two minutes had passed since she left. Harry! She climbed out of the drainage ditch and ran back to the school as fast as she could, arriving just in time to see Goyle and Sally-Ann get torn to peices by a grenade. Harry was also there, she couldn't see him very well down in the dark courtyard, but his arm seemed to be bleeding. He grabbed his bag and ran without noticing her. Hermione wanted to call out to him, but looking at the mangled bodies of Sally-Ann and Goyle, a horrible thought struck her. Each bag only held one weapon and Goyle had attacked her with a gun. Was it possible? Was Harry the one with the grenades?

      No. She couldn't let herself start thinking like that. But then again...Goyle _was_ attacking him. Maybe Harry had got Sally-Ann by accident when he killed Goyle...

      _Stop it_! This was exactly what Phalanx and the people running the program wanted. They wanted everyone to suspect everyone else, even those closest to them. As soon as you stopped trusting, it was all over and any chance of escaping this nightmare went right out the window. And if she couldn't trust Harry, who could she trust? She had to risk it.

      _Listen to yourself! 'Risk it'? This is Harry Potter! Your best friend! And he's hurt; he's bleeding._

      She had made her decision. One look at the bodies told her there was nothing she could do for Sally-Ann. But she could still catch up with Harry. She set off, following a trail of blood into the woods.

      If she had hesitated a moment longer, she would have seen Dean Thomas (Male Student 20, Gryffindor) come out and find the three bodies by the entrance. She would have been there when he took one look at the bloody wreck of Sally-Ann Perks and doubled over, trying to throw up, but finding his stomach already empty. She would have noticed the helpless look on his face as it dawned on him that his classmates were willing to kill each other just because the government said so and as he came to the conclusion that there was no way out. 

      And she would have been able to stop him from locking himself in the groundskeeper's equipment shed near the stairs, watching the picture of Ginny Weasley that he'd been carrying smile and wave at him for a few long minutes, then taking his provided weapon (a small switchblade knife) and slicing open his wrists.

**35 Students Remaining**

To be continued...


	3. Chapter Three

**5 Students Dead - 35 Students Remaining**

      When the last student (Pansy Parkinson, Female Student 9, Slytherin) had left the classroom and her assistants had cleaned up the body of Justin Finch-Fletchley, Professor Alexandra Phalanx headed to the classroom next door to check on the progress of the battle. This being the first Battle Royale, there was no telling how quickly the game would progress. 

      "Have they started?" she asked as she entered the classroom.

      "Oh yeah," the young witch manning the main console replied. "Before they were even all out. Eager little group we got here. Four dead so far, not counting...um..."

      "I needed to make an example, he singled himself out. Don't worry, I'll take full responsibility."

      "Understood. The other four are right outside the school. Midgin, Goyle, Perks, and Thomas. Far as we can tell, Thomas wasn't fighting anyone, might be a suicide."

      "Well we figured we'd have a few of those, didn't we? I doubt he'll be the last." Phalanx replied nonchalantly. "What about Potter?"

      "Took off into the woods right after Goyle and Perks died. Might be injured." 

      "Fine, keep me posted."

      "Professor," the young woman asked. "What if...what if Potter wins?"

      Phalanx grinned tightly, rubbing the mark on her wrist, hidden beneath the cuff of her blouse.

      "One thing at a time..."

**35 Students Remaining**

      Padma Patil (Female Student 1, Ravenclaw) made her way up the sloping dirt road out of the main part of the village. The moon was full, but tall trees hung over the road, so it was dark enough that she didn't feel too exposed. Besides, she had a weapon. It was something similar to what Professor Phalanx had killed Justin with. That thought instantly let the image of Justin with a hole in his head, and images of Eloise Midgen lying dead with her back full of similar holes, into her mind - images she had been trying very hard to block. The instructions in the bag called the weapon a 'gun', specifically a CZ-75 Automatic Pistol. It didn't seem too hard to use, the little brass cylinders (the instructions called them 'bullets') went into a spring-loaded magazine that fit into the gun's handle. Then pulling the trigger fired. And firing punched holes in her classmates. That was the part Padma was having trouble with.

      Well at least she had the gun if she was attacked. And given the bodies she had seen when she left the school, not only were people playing the game, but there were worse weapons than guns floating around. And there went a whole other torrent of images she didn't want in her mind. They were all various shots of Sally-Ann Perks and Goyle. Short of the darkest of spells, Padma couldn't think of anything that could do to a person what had been done to them. In any case, it was good to know she could defend herself. But for now, Padma had a different mission. She was looking for her sister.

      Parvati had left way before her, she could be anywhere on the island. Padma had seen Harry Potter tell her something as she left. Most likely he was trying to gather the Gryffindors together. But there was no way of telling whether that plan had succeeded, and if it had, where they were. The fact that Sally-Ann was dead didn't speak well for it though. Which left Padma with no choice but to go out looking for Parvati on her own. 

      The school where they had started the game was in the center of the village. According to the map there was a pub on the western tip of the island, a clinic near the northern cliff face, and a few scattered houses and farms dotting the rest of the island. Most of it was forest with a few unpaved roads. Currently, Padma was following one of those roads through the woods, heading north toward the clinic. If she was _extremely_ lucky, she might find Parvati or someone else friendly there, though that was probably too much to hope for. She was heading for the clinic because she wanted some medical supplies if she came across anyone in need of first aid.

      She stopped when a rustling sound came from nearby. Someone was pushing through the forest, coming her way. A rush of hope went through her, but it was gone as soon as it came. How could she be sure the person approaching was a friend? She wanted to believe, but she kept seeing Eloise Midgin with holes in her back and Sally-Ann Perks torn open by god-knows-what. This was not the way to meet up. She wanted to be able to see who it was before speaking. The way things were now, she wouldn't see whoever was coming toward her until he (or she) was right there on the road. She couldn't risk that. She turned and ran the other way, abandoning the road.

      A moment after Padma disappeared into the forest, Ron Weasley (Male Student 16, Gryffindor) burst out of the trees. He looked up and down the road, then back at the strange Muggle device he had found in his duffle bag. The instruction booklet called it a 'GPS Tracker'. It worked a bit like the Marauder's map, except it was made of plastic and had a bunch of buttons and a glowing screen. But that screen showed a detailed map of the entire island, complete with a little red dot for every student still alive. Unfortunately, unlike its parchment cousin, this map couldn't tell Ron whom each dot represented.

      Whoever had been on the road just now had run off into the woods just before Ron got there. He didn't get too good a look, but he was fairly certain it was one of the Patil twins. He was mainly looking for Harry and Hermione, but anyone trustworthy would do. He toyed briefly with the idea of calling out to the fleeing girl, but he wasn't sure advertising his presence was such a good idea, considering that his 'weapon', though useful, was not something he could really defend himself with. 

      He had intended to wait for Harry and the other Gryffindors outside the school, but when Goyle attacked him (thankfully missing by a wide margin) he had no choice but to run. He had hidden in a small building that seemed to serve as town hall, police station, and fire department all in one. It was there that he opened his weapon bag and found the tracker. The first thing looking at it told him was that he was still inside sector B=4, which would become forbidden as soon as the last student cleared out. He couldn't head back to the school to meet up with Harry and Hermione because, as the shots that sounded every two minutes indicated, Goyle was still lurking there. So he headed the other way, out of the center of town and into the woods, where he had been wandering ever since. The sound of explosions back at the school had startled him, especially when two red dots on the map winked out. People were playing the game, and more of his classmates were dead.

      Ron checked the map. Whoever the girl on the road was, she'd been heading north before she heard him approaching. There was only one logical place that could have been her destination: the clinic. She might double back to get there, in which case, if he got there first, he could meet up with her there. He just hoped she wasn't one of the people who had chosen to play.

**35 Students Remaining**

      It had been easy following Harry's trail in the town, but out in the woods, where it was dark, it became much harder. Hermione finally had to take out her flashlight, hooding it with her hand so as not to advertise her presence to _everyone_ on the island. She managed to locate the trail of blood fairly easily after that. Harry was heading west through the woods, moving erratically from the look of it. He still had a large enough head start on her that she couldn't hear him up ahead. Her only choice was to keep following the blood.

      After stumbling around in the woods for half an hour, she came to the opposite edge. She was still on the trail, the drops of red led to a small thatched roof building near the tip of the island. A sign above the door said 'Rose and Thorn'. This had to be the pub marked on the map. Harry's trail led right inside. 

      Taking a quick look around to make sure she wasn't being followed, Hermione pushed open the door and ducked to one side, just in case. She had no way of knowing how paranoid Harry might be by now. No blows fell and no shots rang out, so that was good.

      "Harry?" she called out softly. "Are you in here?"

      "Hermione?"

      Harry stood up from behind the bar. His left arm was still bleeding. The sleeve of his school robes had been burned and shredded and at least three shards of metal stuck out of his arm. In his right hand, he clutched what looked like a bottle of scotch. When he saw that it was her, he ran to her and hugged her tightly.

      "Thank God you're all right!" he said.

      "Harry, what happened to your arm?"

      "Goyle," he replied. "He killed Eloise and stole her grenades. He's...he's dead now. And...Sally-Ann..."

      "I know," Hermione said. "I saw it happen."

      "Ron!" Harry said suddenly, "Did you see Ron?"

      Hermione shook her head. "I figure Goyle was shooting at everybody who came out. I...I think he got away...I hope."

      "He did," Harry assured her. "Goyle said Eloise was the only one he'd killed. I haven't heard any shots since I left the school. I'm...I'm sure Ron's fine."

      "Yeah," Hermione nodded. She brushed off whatever doubts remained. "Here, let me take a look at that arm."

      Gently, she pushed aside the tattered remains of Harry's sleeve. There was no burning she could see; evidently the robes had blocked most of that. In fact, the only visible damage she could see was from three pieces of shrapnel. It was just the blood everywhere that made the wound look worse than it really was. But it still needed to be cleaned and bandaged or it could become infected.

      "I assume that's for disinfecting?" Hermione asked, indicating the scotch still clutched in Harry's fist.

      "No I just thought I'd tip a few back, take the edge off."

      He said it with such a straight face that at first Hermione thought he might be serious. Then his face broke into a smile and she laughed nervously. It seemed odd, making sarcastic jokes and laughing while their friends were dying. But they had both been living in stark terror since they woke up in the classroom. They were tired, hungry, and in Harry's case injured; and on top of that, neither knew how much longer they would be alive. They had to release the pressure somehow or they would go mad. 

      "I was about to bandage this," Harry finally said. "I thought the alcohol would be good for cleaning it."

      "It is, but let's take these out first," Hermione said. She reached for the largest piece of shrapnel, but then thought better of it. Reaching into her back, she pulled out the small stake. "Maybe you'd better bite on this. I imagine this will hurt a great deal."

      "I've had worse," he reminded her.

      "Yes but if you scream like a girly man here, you'll attract the kind of attention we may not want."

      "I don't scream like a girly man," Harry said, smiling. That was it, keep things light, don't think about which of your friends is taking a bullet right now.

      "Have it your way," she reached for the metal. "On the count of three..."

      "Right," Harry braced himself.

      "One...two..." she ripped the shard free. To his credit, Harry managed not to cry out.

      "That...wasn't...nice..."

      "It hurts less if it's unexpected," Hermione replied. "Now let's get the other two."

      "Before you do?" Harry stopped her.

      "Yes?"

      "Give me that stake."

**35 Students Remaining**

      The southern edge of the island was a long beach sloping up to green hills. The hills then turned into thick forest, which terminated in tall cliffs that ran the length of the northern coast. It was on one of those cliffs that Susan Bones (Female Student 14, Hufflepuff) sat, swinging her legs over the edge. She had run from the school, narrowly avoiding death at the hands of Goyle. She had stumbled out of the school and seen the body of her friend Eloise Midgin lying in the middle of the blacktop. Immediately she turned and ran around the school. Out of luck, she found the back stairs and got away, though Goyle did manage to get a few shots off at her before she got away. (Though she had no way of knowing this, he then moved Eloise's body out of sight so that others would not be warned by seeing her.)

      She had run, terrified, into the night. Every two minutes, shots rang out back at the school. But the sound of gunfire grew quieter as she moved through the woods. She finally reached the cliffs, where she had been sitting ever since. She had opened her duffle bag and found a gun, an Uzi submachine gun. Her father, a Muggle, had insisted that she learn how to use a gun in self defense but those classes had never covered Uzis. That didn't matter. If she was lucky, she wouldn't even have to fire it. She could just hide out and hope for the best. They couldn't go through with this game, and eventually someone would come rescue them. Their parents, or Professor Dumbledore. If she just stayed put and didn't fight, someone would save her.

      Then again...

      A rustling in the bushes behind her announced the presence of another student. She turned around to see Neville Longbottom (Male Student 17, Gryffindor) pushing through the foliage.

      "Susan!" he said, sounding relieved.

      "Stay back!" Susan shouted, standing up and aiming her gun at Neville. "Don't come any closer!"

      "W-wait," Neville stuttered, throwing his hands over his head. "I don't want to fight!"

      "Liar! You're here to kill me! You want to win, don't you?"

      "Susan...this is me, Neville," he smiled nervously, trying to placate her. "I've never won anything in my life, why would I start now?"

      "Well...maybe..." Susan was confused now. Why had she thought Neville would kill her? Neville would never hurt a fly. Would he?

      "Just trust me," Neville took a step forward, "We can help each other."

      No! That was wrong! Neville shouldn't be this calm. A little voice was whispering in Susan's head, telling her that Neville was different now. He'd gone crazy; he was out to kill her. _Kill him! Before he can kill you!_

      "Listen, let's..."

      He was too close! Without thinking, her finger almost acting on its own, Susan pulled the trigger. The sound of the Uzi wasn't like anything else she'd ever heard, somewhere between an old-fashioned typewriter and a jackhammer. The shots caught Neville square in the chest. He flew backwards and landed in the bushes. He was very still.

      Susan stood there for a long moment. Tears sprung to her eyes. She had killed him...killed Neville. Sweet, clumsy Neville. Sobbing, she ran to his side. He lay still. He had died so quickly the holes in his chest weren't even bleeding. And he was...breathing?

      Before she could register how odd that was, she heard a strange, wet, *thunk* sound, accompanied by an odd numbness in the back of her head. The numbness quickly became pressure, and the pressure turned into pain as a strange warmth trickled down the back of her robes. Suddenly she realized what had happened; someone had stabbed her in the head. In the same instant that the realization came to her, she died. Her body fell on top of Neville.

      Draco Malfoy (Male Student 8, Slytherin) wrenched his provided weapon, a hatchet, out of Susan Bones' head and wiped her blood off on the back of her robes. He had to thank the little Mudblood bitch for taking Longbottom out for him, though he would have liked to kill the little idiot himself. Still, waste not... Best of all, he now had a long-range weapon. Muggles might be worthless, but they had some fantastic weapons. Ever since Professor Phalanx had killed Justin Finch-Fletchley, he had hoped he would get one of those Muggle killing sticks in his bag. Instead he got a hatchet. But now thanks to Susan, he had what he really wanted; plus extra food and water. Add whatever weapon Longbottom had in his bag, and things were looking up for Mrs. Malfoy's son Draco. He grabbed both bags and headed back into the woods before someone could follow the sound of the gunfire. 

      As a result, Malfoy wasn't there when the unconscious Neville Longbottom awoke, frantically disentangled himself from Susan's corpse, and ran away into the woods. He hadn't really expected the heavy vest to protect him, and he hadn't thought he would need protection from someone as nice as Susan Bones. But now he was glad he had chosen to wear the vest under his clothes after all. He had no idea who had killed Susan, but whoever it was had taken her weapon and Neville's bag. Not wanting to find out if that person was still around, Neville turned and ran, following the road south.

**34 Students Remaining**

To be continued...


	4. Chapter Four

*   *   *   *   *

Note: For anyone who might be wondering (for example, one of my reviewers) Battle Royale began as a novel. It has since been made into a live-action movie and a manga. The novel and manga are the only versions commercially available in the US.

*   *   *   *   *

**6 Students Dead - 34 Students Remaining**

      After the excruciating extraction of the shrapnel from Harry's arm came the equally painful disinfecting. The cold liquor somehow managed to burn just slightly more than a dragon's fire when poured on open wounds. Still, if it kept the wound from going septic, it was worth the pain. Finally, Hermione turned a few of the cleaner looking bar towels into makeshift bandages and bound the wounds. 

      "I think we should head for the clinic," she said, pointing out the spot on her map. "We need to stitch these up and put proper bandages on them or they'll only get worse."

      Harry nodded absently. Part of him wondered if he would survive long enough to die from an infected cut. They had heard someone fire a machine gun nearby while Hermione was treating him. So Goyle wasn't the only one who had decided to play. The game was still in progress. No telling who would be the next to fall.

      "Have you got a weapon?" Hermione asked, "Something better than a stake I mean."

      Harry realized then that he had yet to check the contents of his duffle bag. What with nearly being blown up, running for his life, and undergoing impromptu surgery, he hadn't had a chance. He pulled open the black nylon bag, pushed aside the standard supplies, and took out his weapon. It was a small, black plastic box. It was shaped a little like Uncle Vernon's electric razor, but instead of blades, two metal prongs stuck out of the top. Harry pressed the button on the handle and blue sparks of electricity arced between the prongs, accompanied by an angry snapping sound.

      "It's a taser!" Hermione said. "Mum's got one just like it."

      Harry examined the taser for a moment. As far as weapons went he could have done a lot worse. It was small enough to conceal and draw quickly, and it was incapacitating, not fatal. He could defend himself and Hermione without having to kill.

      "Come on," Hermione said. "We need to find that clinic."

      "Wait," Harry stopped her. "I don't think we should go yet."

      "Why not?"

      "Well I've been thinking about it. We know there are people playing the game and some of them are nearby. If we move at night we're less visible but so are they. We could walk right into an ambush and never know it."

      "But there can't be that many people going along with this, can there?"

      "Maybe not but it would only take one to kill us. I think for now we have to assume that anyone we come across is hostile unless we know otherwise." _God, I sound like Moody. Constant vigilance!_ "Anyway, it's only a few hours until sunup, I think we'll be better off waiting until then to move."

      "But..."

      "And during the day, we can look farther ahead; that'll make it easier to move between hiding spots."

      Hermione seemed to consider that for a minute, then she nodded.

      "Well that makes sense at least. I'm just worried about your arm."

      "It won't get infected in a few hours will it?"

      "Well...not bandaged up like that I guess," Hermione allowed. "All right, we stay until morning."

      Harry nodded. "The owner has a flat upstairs. Go get some sleep, I'll keep watch down here."

      "No way," Hermione replied. "You're hurt, Harry. You need sleep more than I do. You go; I'll watch."

      Harry sighed. "Look, it's...what, four hours until dawn? We'll take shifts. You sleep two hours, then I will."

      "All right," Hermione said, heading for the stairs. "Two hours. And you'd better wake me up, got it?"

**34 Students Remaining**

      The clinic was close now. According to his tracker, Ron was right on top of it, any second now he should be able to see it through the woods. The gunshot sound with which he was quickly becoming all too familiar, had sounded nearby a few minutes ago, six or seven times in rapid succession. And another dot had winked out seconds later. One more friend dead. He wondered who it was.

      Ron stopped suddenly when a red dot moved onto the screen. He'd had it zoomed in so close that only his own dot in the center had showed. Now someone else was close, to the north and heading toward Ron quickly. Ron didn't have time to hide himself before a figure in school robes stepped onto the road. In the moonlight, Ron saw all too well who it was. The pale face, the blond hair...it was Malfoy.

      "Who...who's there?" Malfoy called out. He sounded terrified. "Who are you?"

      "Put you're hands where I can see them, Malfoy," Ron replied.

      "Weasley? Is that you? I can't see you back there. Come out into the light."

      "Hands. Air. Now!" Ron said harshly.

      "Please...please don't hurt me," Malfoy begged, throwing his hands above his head.

      "What's your weapon, Malfoy?"

      "What?" Malfoy blubbered, almost on the verge of tears.

      "Your weapon! What is it?"

      "An axe!" Malfoy cried. "Just a little axe!"

      "Well I got one of those gun things, just like Phalanx's. So don't try anything funny. Very slowly, take your axe and lay it on the ground."

      "What? But it's all I have!" Malfoy cried.

      "You want me to shoot you right now?" Ron yelled.

      "All right! All right, just...just please don't kill me."

      "I don't intend to, but I'm not keen on getting stabbed in the back either," Ron said. To tell the truth, he wasn't sure he could trust Malfoy even unarmed. But even if he'd had a gun, he doubted he could have simply killed him. Few people hated Draco Malfoy more than Ron did, but murder wasn't something he was ready to consider just yet.

      Reluctantly, Malfoy reached into the bag hanging from his shoulder and pulled out a small hatchet. He slowly placed the hatchet on the ground and pushed it away with his foot.

      "Now look," Ron said. "I don't want to kill anyone. Not even you. I think if we just work together and trust each other, we can _all_ get out of here. We don't have to play their game."

      "How..."

      "I don't know," Ron said. "Right now we need to gather as many people as we can. We can come up with a plan once we're all together. The important part is to get them to stop fighting before anyone else gets killed."

      "All right..." Malfoy said, still sounding scared. It was strange to see him like this, completely devoid of his usual arrogance. It made sense though; Ron had always known Malfoy was a coward at heart. Now he was showing his true colors; the thought that he might die here had him nearly incoherent with fright. Ron might have taken some satisfaction in that, had he not been aware that his own chances of dying sometime in the coming three days were was just as good as Malfoy's. He picked up the hatchet and tucked it under his belt.

      "Hey!"

      "Sorry, Malfoy," Ron said. "It's not that I don't trust you; it's just...well, okay let's not kid ourselves; it _is_ that I don't trust you. Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I was lying about the gun. See." He held up the tracking unit. Malfoy smiled. Suddenly he looked very relieved. Well that made sense, didn't it?

      "What's it do?" Malfoy asked.

      "Lets you see where everyone is. And it's a better map than the one in the bags."

      "Very nice," Malfoy said, reaching into his bag. "I think I'll take it." He whipped out something dark and metallic. It was much larger than the ones Professor Phalanx and Goyle had used, but there could be no doubt that it was a gun. Gripping the tracker tightly, Ron swung his bag with the other hand, catching Malfoy in the arm and knocking his aim off just as he pulled the trigger. The gun fired multiple shots into the dirt, making the same rapid sound Ron had heard earlier. He turned and sprinted into the woods, shoving the tracking unit back into his bag as he went. He heard Malfoy's gun go off behind him again. A horrible, burning pain erupted in his right leg, just below the calf. Less than a second later, another spike of pain went off in his right shoulder. His legs went limp beneath him and he fell. Worse yet, he was on a slope. As the pain of the gunshot wounds increased, he felt himself tumbling down the steep incline before his midsection slammed into a thick tree, stopping his descent but also knocking the breath out of him. The pain of the fall only lasted a second however, before the agony of the gunshots eclipsed it. Was this how Eloise felt when she died?

      He thought of his parents. His mother, waving goodbye as he boarded the Hogwarts Express, had it really only been a few hours ago? Ginny; she must have noticed by now that he was gone. Would she be told what had happened to him? He thought of Harry and Hermione, somewhere on the island. How would they feel at six o'clock, when they heard he was dead? He thought how unfair it was that he would never get to see them again, especially Hermione. _And I was going to tell her how I felt. Now I'll never get to._ It was amazing how much ran through his mind in such a short time. _And of all the lousy, cheap ways to die! Shot in the back by Malfoy!_

      He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he should get up. But the rest of him knew better. He had nowhere to go. No one would come to help him. In fact, they would probably all head away from the gunfire. And he would just lie here until he bled to death. He could already feel it coming; a kind of warm calm that settled over him. Even the pain was fading. Somewhere far off, he heard hurried footsteps approaching; that'd be Malfoy, come to finish him off and collect the tracker, the better to hunt down others. If he'd had the strength, he would have flung the damn thing into the woods where Malfoy would never find it. But as things were, he had only enough energy to hope that he would be unconscious when those killing shots came.

**34 Students Remaining**

      Kevin Entwhistle (Male Student 4, Ravenclaw) took refuge in a small farmhouse near the eastern tip of the island. Shots had been ringing out since the start of the game. And at least two students were dead (not counting Justin, who had died in the classroom) Goyle and Sally-Ann. It looked like they had been blown up. His classmates were apparently quite willing to kill one another. But Kevin would have no part of it. He intended to stay right here and wait it out. There were ninety zones in the game and, given the times Professor Phalanx had said, thirty-three of them would become forbidden in the course of the game. So there was a better than even chance that he could hide out here the entire time. And if this zone was selected, then he would find another hiding place. Let the rest of them kill each other if they wanted. He would wait until they wiped each other out, then he could go home with a clean conscience. He wouldn't have to kill anyone.

      Kevin jumped when he heard a window downstairs shatter. Someone was breaking in. He tore open the duffle bag at his feet and took out his weapon. The bag contained a gas mask and six grenades marked "mustard gas". He hadn't thought he would need them. He had hoped to wait out the game, after all. But somehow, someone knew he was up here. They were coming to kill him. Just because he didn't want to kill, didn't mean he wouldn't do so to defend himself. He pulled on the mask, making sure it sealed, and grabbed a grenade.

      Now there were footsteps on the stairs. Kevin quietly pulled out the grenade's pin, holding the clip on. The footsteps were on the second floor landing now, coming down the hallway toward him. As the door in front of him swung open, Kevin tossed the grenade at the feet of his would-be killer. Just as the gas began to billow out of the canister, the door opened fully to reveal Susanna Bradley (Female Student 5, Ravenclaw). Kevin wished he could take back the grenade but it was too late, and Susanna seemed to realize this too. Reflexively, she raised her own weapon (it looked to Kevin like some kind of revolver) and fired at her murderer. The shots tore through Kevin like he was made of paper. The last thing he ever saw was Susanna dropping her gun and falling to the floor, gasping in vain for air and coughing up blood as the deadly gas burned out her throat and melted her lungs. In seconds, both of them were dead.

**32 Students Remaining**

      As night slowly crept into dawn, the surviving students spread out across the battleground. In the pub, Harry Potter stood watch while Hermione slept upstairs. Neville Longbottom moved cautiously through the woods, looking for an empty building to hide in. Draco Malfoy stalked another part of the same forest, looking for more victims. And at the bottom of a steep embankment, Padma Patil found Ron Weasley hovering at the edge of death. Common sense said to leave him, but she couldn't, not while he still drew those labored breaths. As carefully as possible, surprised by how heavy he was, she wrapped his good arm around her shoulders and began the slow, laborious process of dragging him uphill to the clinic. Elsewhere, some students hid out while others stayed mobile. Alliances were few and far between; most encounters ended in mutual retreat. There was an almost physical sense of paranoia in the air, the feeling that even your closest friend could no longer be trusted. 

      Battle Royale had begun.

**32 Students Remaining**

To Be Continued...


	5. Chapter Five

Part Three: Daybreak

**8 Students Dead - 32 Students Remaining**

      "Hermione...Hermione, wake up."

      Hermione rolled over, away from the voice. It couldn't be time for classes already, could it? She had just gone to bed. She certainly didn't feel rested. She'd had a horrible nightmare. They had all been abducted from Hogwarts and told to kill each other, and... Oh, God! She opened her eyes. She wasn't in her four-poster bed in Gryffindor tower. She was in the upstairs flat above a dingy pub, and Harry was gently trying to wake her. Orange sunlight filtered through the windows. It seemed to be just after sunrise. Hermione sat bolt upright.

      "Harry! You said two hours each!"

      "Yeah..." Harry said. "That was kind of a fib."

      "So you haven't slept..."

      "I'm fine, Hermione," he cut her off. "I couldn't have slept last night if I tried."

      Hermione decided to let it drop. Harry telling a little white lie to give her more rest seemed rather insignificant. Actually, given their current situation, a lot of things suddenly seemed insignificant.

      "What time is it?" she asked.

      "Nearly six," Harry said. "She's about to make the announcement, I think."

      Sure enough, a minute or so later Professor Phalanx's unnervingly cheery voice sounded across the island, clearly amplified by magic to reach them all.

      "Good morning students! It's six a.m. the sun is shining; a beautiful day for a battle, don't you agree?"

      "That horrible woman!" Hermione said furiously. "She's actually having fun!"

      "Well let's get started," Phalanx continued. "We got off to a very good start last night. Your dead classmates are as follows, Ladies first, in the order they died; we've lost No. 12, Eloise Midgin, No. 19, Sally-Ann Perks, No. 14, Susan Bones, and No. 5, Susanna Bradley. And now for the boys, in order: No. 10, Gregory Goyle, No. 20 Dean Thomas, and No. 4, Kevin Entwhistle. A very promising start indeed."

      Harry and Hermione were both speechless. They knew people were fighting, but counting Justin Finch-Fletchley, this made eight dead. In just a few hours!

      "Interesting note," Professor Phalanx said, "Dean Thomas chose to take himself out of our little game early. Consider it a personal favor from him to all of you. One less obstacle to victory."

      "Oh no." Hermione whispered. Harry clenched his fist in anger. He couldn't decide if it would have been better or worse if Dean had been killed by another student rather than taking his own life. He was also conflicted because he had felt a certain sense of happiness when the list was finished. Ron's name hadn't been called. He was still all right. But it seemed wrong somehow to celebrate that fact when others were dying all around them.

      "Now for this morning's forbidden zones. Get your maps ready," Hermione and Harry scrambled for their maps; luckily finding that each came with a pen. "From 0700, Sector E=08. From 0900, Sector A=05. From 1100, Sector G=10. That's all for now, I'll be giving you the next three with the Noon announcement."

      Harry marked down the times and zones on his map. For good measure, he crossed out Sector B=04, which had gone forbidden hours ago. Reluctantly, he took out his class list. He hated to do it, but something told him he ought to keep track of the casualties. He placed a small 'X' next to the name of each dead student.

      "Keep up the good work, kids!" Phalanx said. "You're making me so proud!"

      "You're right," Harry said, disgustedly. "She's having the time of her life!" Putting aside his feelings of hatred from the moment, Harry examined his map again. The pub they were in was not in one of the scheduled forbidden zones, nor was the clinic. The clinic _was_ in sector A=6, but A=5 wouldn't become forbidden until 9:00. It shouldn't take them three hours to get there. And if they got delayed...well they had the map; they could just as easily go around A=5 as through it. In fact, now that Harry thought about it, it might not be a bad idea to start avoiding a zone as soon as it was announced, rather than waiting for it to turn forbidden. Better safe than blown up, after all.

      "Ron's alive..." Hermione said quietly. It was only because of their close friendship that Harry caught the undertone in her voice, more than simple relief that a friend was all right. He was reminded of a letter he had gotten from Ron just a few weeks earlier on his sixteenth birthday. The letter had arrived along with a mixed package of Honeydukes candies and Weasley's Wizard Wheezes - thankfully separated to avoid mixing them up.

      _Harry,_

_            Happy Birthday Mate! How are the Muggles treating you? We all wish you were here instead but everyone said it's safer for you there. Load of rubbish if you ask me, but no one does. Anyway, I hope this package reaches you all right. The stuff from Fred and George is for your cousin if he gets to being too big a git. _

_      I've been talking to Mum and Dad about having you come visit and I think I'm wearing them down. Maybe we'll see each other soon. There's something I really need to talk to you about. Don't want to say too much in case this letter is intercepted (By Fred and George. They're here visiting.) but it involves a girl we both know. That's all I want to say for now, but I hope to see you in person soon. I need to talk to a friend about this._

_      Anyway, remember to tell us if the Muggles are getting you down. The sooner they slip up, the sooner we can come get you out of there._

_                              Happy Birthday,_

_                                    Ron_

      Harry's first thought had been, _why doesn't he talk to Hermione about it if he needs a friend? She's there._ He immediately smacked himself on the forehead; it should have been obvious. Ron couldn't talk to Hermione because _she_ was the girl he wanted to talk about. Ron fancied Hermione. Once again, it should have been obvious. He had always been critical, jealous even, of Viktor Krum, the only boy they had ever seen Hermione show any real interest in. He was always quick to leap to her defense whenever Malfoy or anyone else made fun of her. Harry wondered why he hadn't noticed it before. And it seemed that Hermione felt the same way about Ron. That clinched it. No matter what it took, even if it meant his own death, Harry was going to get both of them out of this game alive.

      "We need to get to the clinic if we're going," he said.

      "We're going," Hermione replied, pointing to his arm. The cuts were bleeding again, dark crimson soaking through the dingy white bar towels. "You need stitches for those."

      "All right," Harry said, swinging his duffle bag up onto his shoulder and stuffing the taser into the pocket of his school robes where he could get to it easily. "Let's get going."

**32 Students Remaining**

      Ron's first sensation when he woke up was pain everywhere. He was lying in what felt like a hospital bed. For a moment he entertained the idea that they had all been rescued and he was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, or possibly St. Mungo's in London. But of course, reality intruded almost immediately. He smelled salt in the air and he could hear the pounding of surf just outside the window. More than that, he could feel the oppressive weight of the collar fastened around his neck, ready to explode if he put a toe over what Professor Phalanx deemed to be the line. So he was still on the island, still in the battle. The question then became, why was he still alive?

       He sat up with some difficulty, wincing at the pain in his shoulder and abdomen. Looking down he saw that someone had removed his shirt and wrapped clean white bandages over the bullet hole in his shoulder. His midsection was a massive, ugly bruise where the tree had broken his fall, and he suspected he had cracked at least one rib. He also wore smaller bruises everywhere else. But he was alive. And despite the pain, it felt as though he could probably move. Someone had fixed him up.

      That was when Ron noticed that he was not alone. Another student, a girl with long dark hair, sat in a chair next to his bed. She had clearly been sitting watch over him but had slumped forward so that her head lay on the bed near his legs. Gently, he reached over with his good arm and shook her awake. She sat up with a start and Ron saw that it was Padma Patil. Ordinarily, she was one of the prettiest girls in their year; hell, one of the prettiest at Hogwarts, period. Right now, with her hair in disarray, dirt on her face, blood on her clothes (Ron had a sneaking suspicion the blood was his), and that horrible collar around her neck...well she was still pretty, but now she looked like a refugee from some sick war. Well, that wasn't far from the truth, was it?

      "Padma?"

      "Ron!" she exclaimed, "You're awake! I was afraid... How do you feel?"

      "Like I've been run over by a Hippogriff, but I think I'll live," he said. "Thanks to you?"

      Padma nodded. "I did the best I could. I actually managed to get the bullet out of your leg, but I didn't think it was a good idea to mess with the one in your shoulder. I think it's lodged there. I found some antibiotics too, I was afraid you might be allergic to them, but I couldn't really ask you. You seem to be fine though, and they'll keep the wounds from getting infected. Just be careful you don't rip the stitches out. They're not very good. This was...kind of my first time doing any of this."

      "Stitches?" Ron said. "As in, you sewed my skin together?"

      She nodded again, apologetically. "Well without my wand it was the only way I could find to stop the bleeding."

      "You did all that?" Ron asked. "Without Magic? How did you know what..."

      "Well..." she seemed embarrassed. "I want to be a Healer after school, so Madame Pomfrey loaned me a book once on Muggle medicine. She said sometimes their remedies can be just as good as ours. Anyway, most of the stuff I remembered from the book. I kind of had to improvise the rest. But at least this place had everything I needed. It really is fascinating how Muggles get by without spells and potions."

      "Yeah," Ron said, rubbing the shoulder where he now had a lovely Muggle bullet lodged. "I'm fascinated."

      "Sorry," Padma said quietly. Ron immediately felt bad. Here he was, snapping at the girl who had saved his life, most likely at great risk to her own.

      "No, I'm sorry," he said. "I just...sorry."

      "Did you see who shot you?" Padma asked, trying to change the subject.

      "It was Malfoy," Ron said. "He wanted... The tracker!" He cast a frantic look around. Could Malfoy have come, taken his bag, and simply not bothered to finish him off, assuming he was as good as dead? "My bag! Do you have...?"

      "Relax," Padma ordered him, "You'll tear the stitches. I went back and got your bag after I brought you here." She handed the black nylon duffle bag to Ron. He unzipped it and looked inside, relieved to see the tracker nestled among bottles of water and individually packaged rolls. He took it out and checked the display. There were no other dots nearby, for the moment he and Padma were the only two around.

      "What is that?" she asked.

      "My weapon," Ron replied. "It..." he stopped because he had noticed something disturbing. On the screen, right next to them, Sector A=05 was marked with the numbers 0900. Zooming the map out as far as it would go, Ron saw two other sectors marked, E=08 with 0700 and G=10 with 1100. He checked his watch: 6:56. He had missed the first announcement!

      "The morning announcement!" he said, "Did you hear...?"

      "I'm sorry," Padma said. "I must have dropped off just before it."

      Ron sighed. Sleeping through the announcement could have been disastrous. It was just lucky that the tracker marked forbidden zones. The more he used the little device, the more he came to appreciate it. But it didn't tell him who was still alive. Counting the dots on the screen (a difficult prospect, as many of them were moving) told him that two more students had died since last he checked. He refused to believe that Hermione and Harry would let themselves be killed, but there was no way to be sure.

      "I have to go," he said, standing up as quickly as his injuries allowed. Thankfully he was still wearing pants, though it appeared Padma had cut the right leg off of them just above the knee to get at the gunshot there. Now he just needed to find his shirt and the rest of his uniform.

      "Wait, you shouldn't be walking around," she said.

      "I can't just sit here," Ron said, "If we stay here someone will pick us off eventually. We have to keep moving."

      "You're in no condition..."

      "Yeah but we don't exactly have time to wait until I'm better," Ron said. "We need to find the others and figure a way out of this. We can use the tracker, and now that it's day we should be able to get a good look at who it is before they see us. That way we can find people we know can be trusted."

      "All right," Padma nodded. "But let me get some supplies first, in case we find anyone hurt."

      "Just out of curiosity, where are the rest of my clothes?"

      "Oh..." Padma blushed slightly, staring at his bare chest. Ron had evidently been working out this past summer, probably training for the upcoming Quidditch season. And, if possible, he had gotten even taller. She'd had her difficulties with Ron in the past (being ignored at a dance was not her idea of a good time) but even with bandages and bruises all over, she could not deny that he had become quite handsome. Between him and Harry Potter, Gryffindor seemed to get all the best guys. "Um...your shirt, and your robes...they weren't really salvageable."

      "Oh," Ron said. He looked around and saw the torn and bloodied remains of his uniform in the dustbin. Padma was right; there was no way they could be worn again.

      "I think I saw some clothes in the closet, though," she said, rushing out into the hallway. She returned a moment later with a big, light green shirt. It had a wide neck and arms and Ron had to admit that it was a lot easier to put on than his school clothes would have been under the circumstances.

      "Um...Ron?" she paused in the middle of loading her weapon bag with medical supplies.

      "Yeah?"

      "I...I know this isn't a good time to ask this sort of thing, but..." blushing furiously, she blurted out the question all at once. "Do you fancy anyone?"

      "What?"

      "You know...you like anyone?"

      Ron frowned. He did like someone, someone in their class. And the longer they lingered here, the greater the chance that he would never see her again. "Yeah," he finally said.

"Not me, right?" Padma said, half-laughing.

      "Padma..."

      "It's okay," she said, favoring him with a smile. "I've got a pretty good idea who it is. I...I'm sure she's fine. And Harry too."

      "I have to see her again," he said. "I never got a chance before and...if we're going to die here..."

      "Hey, what happened to all of us getting out?" Padma asked. She gave him another smile. "Come on, let's go find the others. Oh, and take these first," she handed him two small white pills. "They're aspirin, Muggle painkillers. They should make you feel a little better."

      Ron took the pills from her, but paused with them halfway to his mouth.

      "What is it?"

      "I just...remembered something Phalanx said back in the classroom, about how there are no rules. I think I understand how some of the others must be feeling, why they're killing each other. I mean...these could be anything. For all I know, I could drop dead two seconds after taking them. It's like she said, only one of us can leave alive. So why trust anyone?"

      "So how do you know you can trust me?" Padma asked. "Unless... You...do trust me, don't...?"

      Before she could continue, Ron popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed.

      "I was just making a point. If you wanted me dead, you could have left me at the bottom of that hill," he said.

      "Maybe I'm just using you to increase my own chances of survival," she suggested.

      "Maybe I'm using you for the same reason," Ron said.

      "So do we trust each other, then?"

      "I trust you," Ron said. "At some point...you have to trust someone. Otherwise..."

      "You lose it and start killing whoever you meet," Padma said.

      Ron nodded. "That's what they're counting on. They expect us to turn on each other. That's why they set the time limits and the forbidden zones; it's all to make sure we won't team up against them."

      "So we trust each other?"

      "We do," Ron said. "It's our only chance. And even if it doesn't work," he grinned, "it's sure to piss those wankers off."

**32 Students Remaining**

      Draco Malfoy spent the better part of an hour searching the bottom of the hill where Weasley had fallen the night before. He had figured Weasley was a goner and he could wait until light to come back for his gear, especially that tracker. Then, at six o'clock, he heard the announcement. Weasley wasn't on the list of dead. Stranger still, neither was Longbottom. Draco couldn't figure out how Longbottom had survived being shot in the chest, or how Weasley had survived his own wounds from the same weapon. Maybe these gun things weren't as good as they had seemed. They were Muggle weapons after all. But they had worked so well on Justin and Eloise...

      Well maybe Longbottom had something protecting him. There had been no weapon in his bag, just food, water, and the other standard equipment (which he had promptly transferred into his own bag). So it was possible that whatever weapon Longbottom had received had somehow protected him from the bullets. And maybe someone came and managed to heal Weasley. There was a lot of blood in the area where he had fallen, so at least one shot had hit him, but maybe he only got an arm or leg, someplace where it wouldn't kill him immediately. Well it didn't make too much difference. Weasley still only had the axe. The next time they met, Draco would make sure he was dead before leaving. For now, there were thirty players besides Weasley that he had to worry about more. He had to figure there were at least a few more guns out there, also blades and bludgeoning tools. He also remembered Professor Phalanx mentioning that _most_ of the weapons in the bags were of Muggle origin. That meant a few were probably magical. The sooner he found one of those, the better he would feel.

      A rumbling in his stomach reminded Draco that the last thing he had eaten was a pumpkin pasty on the train. Looking around to verify that he was alone, he sat down near where Weasley had fallen and opened his bag, making sure that his gun was close at hand. He took out one of the rolls, unwrapped it, and took a bite. The thing was hard as a rock and tasted slightly worse. If he was going to spend the next three days here, he was going to have to find something better to eat. But there was nothing else right now, so he choked down the rest of the stale roll, washing it down with water from one of the many bottles he now had. That was another stroke of luck. Each bag barely contained enough bread and water for the entire three days, and that was assuming it was carefully rationed. But now that he had appropriated the supplies from both Susan Bones and Neville Longbottom, he no longer had to worry about that. That was good; anything that gave him an edge over the others was good. Because, although a few more students would probably take each other down without his help, Draco had a feeling that most of the killing in this game would be up to him. There were three deaths in particular that he was looking forward too. Weasley had escaped once, but he wouldn't be so lucky next time. And after all, he quite literally had nowhere to run to. Granger was out there too; she would be an easy kill, but a satisfying one. And then there was Potter. He could barely contain his excitement at the thought of putting a bullet right through that ugly scar everyone was so hung up on. He couldn't have planned it better, the Ministry not only allowing, but encouraging him, ordering him even, to kill Potter and his groupies. And he would get away with it. No one would even blame him. If anything, they would feel sorry for him. Poor kid had no choice, did he? Kill or be killed; that was the rule.

      It was like a dream come true.

**32 Students Remaining**

To Be Continued...


	6. Chapter Six

*   *   *   *   *

Note: I've changed the class list around a bit as new information has presented itself. This will be the last time, as I refuse to change anything in the list from now on. None of the changed names have shown up yet so none of the action in the fic so far has changed. On a related note, when I was first compiling the list, my research suggested that Blaise Zabini was a female Slytherin, now I find that may be wrong. Since this particular character has never done anything noteworthy in the books, I've decided that he/she/it shall remain female in this fic. It won't matter much soon anyway.

*   *   *   *   *

**8 Students Dead - 32 Students Remaining**

      Millicent Bulstrode (Female Student 6, Slytherin) was cold, wet, hungry, and terrified. Her first sight upon exiting the school had been Goyle (whom she had always rather liked) torn almost in half. She had run, fighting the urge to scream because to do so would betray her presence to others. She eventually made her way down to the beach, where she had wedged herself among some rocks to wait out the night. She kept hearing those gun things going off to the north. Then came the morning announcement. Eight students had died in the night.

      Knowing that sooner or later someone would come for her, Millicent opened her bag for the first time since leaving the school. She found all the promised equipment, but where her weapon should have been, there was only a small pewter cauldron, a lot like the one she used in potions lessons. How was she supposed to use that? Beat someone about the head with it? 

      More than anything, her weapon made Millicent want to wedge herself even further back in the rocks and just hope nobody found her. But there was something else to consider: in less than three days, everyone left alive (assuming that number was greater than one) would die. She couldn't just hide out. If she wanted to live she would have to kill _somebody_. And she had to live, she couldn't die here. She just...couldn't!

      Reluctantly, wishing she was anywhere else than here, she climbed out of her hiding place. The sun was still climbing in the sky, but it was already quite warm on the beach, a pleasant change from the cold, wet rocks where she had spent the night. Just standing there, soaking up the sunlight made her feel a little bit better. But she couldn't enjoy the warmth for long; it was dangerous to stand out here in the open. Unfortunately, the forest was a long way away, several miles at least. Her best bet would be to find a building and get inside. Trying to cross those hills in broad daylight would be suicide.

      There were several candidates near the beach. But most were pretty run-down, having been worn away by their closeness to the sea. There was one, however, that still looked clean and didn't bear the appearance of a building that might fall down the instant she set foot inside. As quickly and stealthily as possible, she crossed the beach and made her way up onto the building's front porch. It seemed to be a bed and breakfast set up in someone's beach house, a small bungalow with storm shutters on the windows. The shutters were tightly locked, but fortunately the door wasn't. She stepped into a darkened living room. She took a moment to look around. So this was how Muggles lived. In addition to a few couches and chairs, the room contained a wide range of items Millicent had never seen before and could only guess at their purposes. None of them looked like a weapon, so she didn't bother with any further investigation.

      Somewhere in the back of the house, she heard movement. It was then that she noticed the telltale signs that she had missed on the way in. The door wasn't unlocked, as she had previously thought. Rather, the lock had been forced open. And there was an empty water bottle near the fireplace, just like the ones in her duffle bag. Millicent was instantly terrified again. The 'good' house, the one she had considered safest, had another student in it. She thought of running, but there was no time. The house's other occupant was on their way into the living room. But there was time to reach the closet. She ducked inside and shut the door, hoping that whoever was coming didn't see it shut. Her heart pounding in her chest, she crouched down in the darkness and waited.

      "Hello?" a girl's voice spoke out in the living room. "Who's there?" Millicent realized in a flash of horror that she had left the front door open.

      _Think I've run away!_ She willed the other girl. _Please think I ran back outside!_

      She heard the other girl cross the room and shut the door. For a moment she thought the girl would go away, but instead she began walking around the room, as if she was looking for something...or someone. Millicent nearly screamed when the handle of the closet door turned and the door swung open. Standing in the door was Victoria Frobisher (Female Student 20, Gryffindor). She was holding a broadsword; it looked really sharp.

      "Victoria..."

      "What are you doing sneaking around like that?" Victoria snapped at her. "I could have killed you, you know?"

      "I'm sorry!" Millicent cried. "I was just scared!"

      Victoria's face softened a little. "It's okay, I'm just glad I didn't stab the sword through the door like I was going to at first." She smiled and offered Millicent her hand, helping her to her feet.

      "So I guess you're here for the same reason I am, right?" Millicent asked. Once she had gotten over her initial fear, she realized there were worse people she could have met than Vicky Frobisher. She was a quiet, reserved girl. Actually, Millicent and her friends had often picked on Vicky and she hadn't offered so much as a peep in retaliation. She wasn't the sort who would kill people.

      "Hiding?" Millicent nodded. "Yeah, I spent the night here, trying to come up with a plan."

      "They gave you a sword?"

      "Yeah," Vicky said, hefting the sword. "Not sure how much good it'll be, I can barely lift it."

      "So what do we do now?" Millicent asked.

      Victoria shrugged. "I was in the kitchen checking my map when you came in." She stepped out of the way and let Millicent out of the closet. "Go ahead, I'm going to see if I can prop the door closed."

      Millicent nodded and headed for the kitchen, thankful that she had found someone safe to partner with, at least for the time being. She was thankful right up until she stepped into the kitchen. A suffocating, coppery scent filled the air. She recognized it immediately. The same smell had filled the classroom when Professor Phalanx shot Justin, and had hung over the courtyard where Goyle and Sally-Ann had died. It was the smell of blood. And it didn't take Millicent long to see where it came from.

      A puddle of red liquid covered the floor of the kitchen, spilling out from the body of Blaise Zabini (Female Student 10, Slytherin). She sat propped up against the stove. A huge gash ran from her left shoulder nearly to her right hip. Millicent ran to her friend's side, but it was too late. Blood still oozed from the ghastly wound, but only because of gravity. Blaise had been dead for quite some time now.

      Millicent heard footsteps behind her. She turned, horrified, to see Victoria standing behind her, sword at the ready.

      "How...?"

      "I feel a little bad about lying to you," Victoria said as if she hadn't even heard Millicent. "Not _too_ guilty, just a little. It was actually Blaise who stayed here last night. I found her here this morning. Can you believe they only gave her some knitting needles to fight with? What did they give you, Millicent?"

      "You killed..."

      "She deserved it!" Vicky said fiercely. "You know, I can't remember a day at Hogwarts that you Slytherin girls didn't tease me about something. Bet you thought it was really funny then, making my life hell."

      "Vicky..." Millicent said gently.

      "Shut up!" Victoria screamed. "Don't call me that! Don't act like we're friends! I hate you! All of you!"

      "You're playing the game..."

      "Don't kid yourself. I know I won't win. I just want to make sure none of you do."

      "Please." Millicent said; she knew she was crying now, but she couldn't stop. "You can't..."

      "I think you'll find I can," Victoria said. Millicent turned to run, but she knew she wouldn't make it. An instant later, she felt the sword plunge into her back. Her lower half went numb and she fell with Victoria on top of her, driving the sword deeper. She couldn't even scream.

      "You remember when I said I couldn't lift this thing?" she hissed in Millicent's ear, "I was lying then, too."

      The rest of Millicent Bulstrode's life was filled with pain, but at least it didn't last very long.

**30 Students Remaining**

      The door to the clinic was open, swinging back and forth gently.

      "Wait here," Harry said, pushing the door fully open with his taser. He ducked into the hallway, ready to shock anyone who attacked him. But no attack came. Eventually, convinced it was safe, he motioned for Hermione to follow him. The clinic consisted of a waiting room connected by a hallway to a treatment room. Though there was no one in the clinic now, it looked like someone had been there recently. One of the two beds in the treatment room looked like it had been slept in; the other was soaked with blood. The cabinets had been emptied of most of their contents, but Hermione managed to find enough supplies to perform more thorough first aid on Harry's arm.

      "I wonder who was here?" Harry said, hissing slightly as Hermione began stitching the cuts closed.

      "Whoever it was, I don't envy them," Hermione replied. Harry nodded; he wouldn't have thought anyone could bleed that much and walk away from it.

      It took Hermione about an hour to finish the stitches, but only because she wanted to make sure she got them right. After that, she wrapped the wound in one of the few remaining bandages.

      "I hope you're not a baby about shots."

      Before Harry could answer her, or even really think about what she had said, she jabbed a needle into his arm, injecting antibiotics.

      "There, good as new," she said, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

      "Thanks," Harry said. "Now what?"

      "Well I think our original idea is still the best," Hermione said. She gathered up the wrappings from the supplies she had used to treat Harry and carried them to the dustbin. "We need to get everyone together and figure out how to..." She stopped, unable to speak.

      "Hermione?"

      "Harry..." she whispered breathlessly. "Look."

      Harry followed her gaze down to the dustbin. A set of shredded, bloody Hogwarts robes had been stuffed into the bin. Sitting atop the bloody mess, glinting in the sunlight, was a red prefect's badge. There were only two badges like it on the whole island. And Hermione was wearing the other one.

      "Ron!" Harry gasped. The person who had been here last night, the person whose blood soaked one of the surgical beds, was Ron.

**30 Students Remaining**

      Hannah Abbot (Female Student 13, Hufflepuff) was determined not to be afraid. She had been in the classroom, and for the first few hours of the battle. Actually, fear didn't do what she had felt justice. Stark terror; that was much more descriptive. But sometime before sunrise, having hidden in a storm drain by the beach all night, she made the conscious decision to let go of her fear. So she wasn't afraid any more. She was angry.

      This whole situation was just too wrong. The very idea that she had to either kill her classmates, her friends, or die at their hands was outrageous. And so instead of being afraid of her fellow students, Hannah had decided to be angry at the people who put them here. True, anger was nowhere near as conducive to survival as fear, but it was enough to keep her going. When she opened her bag and found only a package of Fillibuster's Fireworks inside, fury at the bastards running the program was the response that had kept her sane. Now, with her hatred of Professor Phalanx and everyone she represented driving her forward, Hannah's sole mission was to find one person before she died.

      He was out there, somewhere in this twisted game, fighting for his life just like her. It was strange to be here on this little island yet have no idea where he was. It was the very definition of 'so close, yet so far'. 

      There was movement in the bushes next to her. Hannah stepped back as Theodore Nott (Male Student 7, Slytherin) leaped out onto the road. He looked like he had slept on the ground; his uniform was dirty and covered with leaves and small sticks. And there was a look in his eyes that Hannah definitely didn't like.

      "Hannah! I found you!" he said, coming toward her.

      Hannah backed away. "Stay away from me!"

      "Wait," Theodore said, "I know what you're thinking. I'm not here to kill you. I swear."

      "Fine, then go away," Hannah said, she turned to go.

      "Wait!"

      "What?" she turned back to him, annoyed now.

      "It's just...I always liked you," he said. "You're really pretty. I mean I couldn't say it around the other guys. You know, you're in Hufflepuff; I'm in Slytherin...that whole thing. But now..."

      "Now what? Now we might die so you're not afraid to admit you've got a hard-on for me?"

      "What?" Theodore said, trying to look confused.

      "I know all about you, Nott," Hannah said, hoping her voice was conveying exactly how much she loathed this little creep. "You sleep around and then brag about it to your friends. I'm guessing you just don't want to die without having one last shag. All of your old girls say 'no'? Or am I just the first one you've come across?"

      "It's not like that..." Theodore said.

      "Then prove it. Walk away. I've decided not to play this game, so you can go," she swung her bag up onto her shoulder and turned to leave again.

      "Stop!" There was no element of request in Theodore's voice. He was giving orders now. She turned slowly to see him aiming a wand at her.

      "But... But they confiscated..."

      "Guess who got lucky in the weapons department," he said, flashing her a chilling grin. "It's not mine, but it'll do. Now...am I going to have to use this, or are you going to start being nice?"

      "If you're going to kill me, go ahead," she said. "But if you try anything else, I may forget that I'm not playing."

      Nott laughed. "What do you think you can do? I'm the one with the wand, remember. Don't you want to have a little fun before you die? I know you and Macmillan never did it. Don't you want to know what it's like?"

      Hannah glared at him hatefully. "With you, Nott?" she said coldly. "I'd sooner fuck a Troll."

      His expression changed from false humor to rage. He raised the wand again. "We'll see about that, you little tease! _Imperio!_"

      She didn't even have a chance to be surprised that a little maggot like Theodore Nott could perform the Imperius Curse. The spell washed over her, replacing her anger and disgust with a pleasant warmth. She fought the warmth, struggling to push it away as Professor Moody had taught her. It was not for nothing that Hannah Abbot was a member of Dumbledore's Army. When the commands came, she was ready for them.

      _Come to me._

      No.

      _Come to me now!_

      No. Get out of my head!

      _YOU WILL COME TO ME!_

      NOT A BLOODY CHANCE!

      With a rush of pleasantly cool air, the spell broke. Nott was standing before her, furious.

      "Fine!" he growled. "I was trying to be nice! But if you insist on doing everything the hard way... _Petrificus Totalus!_"

      Again, there was no time to block the spell even if she'd had a wand. But this wasn't one that could be fought with the mind. She felt her body seize up and tried to scream, but the spell took effect too fast. At least she managed to shut her eyes; now that they were held shut by the spell, at least she wouldn't have to _see _what was about to happen. She fell to the ground with a dull thud. A moment later she felt him next to her, his breath in her face, a hand moving up her leg, toward the hem of her skirt. A few tears managed to spill out of her eyes even through the petrifaction spell. But she couldn't scream, or fight back no matter how much she wanted to.

      And then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. With a sickening *thud-crack* Nott's presence was gone. She heard him roll into the bushes next to her, groaning in pain. A gunshot rang out and the groan turned into a high, almost girlish scream. Two more shots followed and the scream fell silent. A moment later a voice, the voice she had wanted to hear since leaving the classroom, spoke:

      "_Finite Incantatum_."

      Immediately, she could move again. She opened her eyes and cried new tears - this time tears of happiness - as the boy she loved more than anything else, Ernie Macmillan (Male Student 15, Hufflepuff) helped her to her feet. She embraced him, unable to stop crying.

      "Are you all right?" Ernie asked, "Did he hurt you?"

      "No...No..." She said. She leaned up and kissed Ernie. "You saved me."

      She looked to where Theodore Nott had fallen. The two bullet holes in his chest were what had killed him, but the other shot - directly in his groin - would have done the job, just slower and more painfully.

      "I...got a little carried away," Ernie said, seeming to suddenly realize what he had done. "I mean...He was trying...He was gonna..."

      "It's all right," she said, hugging him tighter, willing him not to fall apart. "It's all right. You had to. But we have to go now, someone will come..."

      Ernie couldn't take his eyes off of Theodore's body. He looked like he was about to be sick. It was all Hannah could do to grab his bag of gear, gather the gun and wand he had dropped, and drag him into the woods and out of sight.

**29 Students Remaining**

To be continued... 


	7. Chapter Seven

**11 Students Dead - 29 Students Remaining**

      The sun continued to cross the sky and the day was becoming unseasonably hot. Ron paused, leaning against a tree for support and wiping sweat from his face. About half of the sweat was from the heat; the rest arose from the pain of every step he took. The Muggle pills Padma had given him helped a little with the bruises, but the bullet holes still ached. At least he was able to walk on his own, though he limped terribly and running was completely out of the question.

      Padma stopped and looked back at him, concern etched in her face. He forced himself to smile.

      "Just needed to rest a second," he assured her.

      Padma frowned and stared at the bandage on his leg, apparently looking for signs of infection or renewed bleeding.

      "I think we should have stayed," she said.

      "Well it's too late now, let's keep going."

      They had been heading back into town for the better part of an hour. They could have been there already, but of course Ron wasn't exactly in peak condition. Ron's scanner showed a group of five students in one of the buildings, just outside the forbidden starting area. That seemed as good a place as any to start looking for allies. It was just a matter of getting there.

      There had been more shots - and someone screaming - nearby not long ago, so both were rather edgy. For her part, Padma wanted to get back inside as quickly as possible. She knew, of course, that they were no safer indoors than out, but nevertheless she had _felt _safer in the clinic than out here in the woods. Especially with Ron limping like that. If they were attacked, he would never be able to get away, and the idea of running and leaving him to die sickened her. Which left one option. If they were attacked, she would have to kill the attacker. Better that they get back into some semblance of safety before someone playing the game found them.

      "It shouldn't be far now," Ron said.

      Sure enough, the woods were thinning around them, giving way to rolling hills. A little past the edge of the woods was the 'downtown' area. Most of it was now forbidden, including the school, the municipal building where Ron had taken refuge at the beginning of the program, and most of the main street. But a few buildings lay outside the boundaries of the forbidden zone. It was in the smallest of these, a bookstore from the look of it, that Ron's tracker showed five students in a group.

      Ron and Padma had discussed the situation when he first noticed the group and decided that any collection of students that large had to be made up of people who weren't willing to kill. They must have gathered together, relying on safety in numbers, or perhaps to form an escape plan. For Padma, there was also the chance that Parvati might be among the students in the bookstore - and Ron was hoping to meet Harry, Hermione, or both there.

      Every time Padma got to thinking that her situation couldn't become any more terrifying, something new came along to raise the bar. If passing through the woods had been nerve-wracking, crossing open ground was terrifying. Ron didn't seem to be too disturbed. Maybe limping across a field with no cover wasn't as scary as descending into the Chamber of Secrets, or battling Death Eaters, but it was enough for Padma and it irked her that he didn't seem worried, just determined to follow his tracker until it led him to his friends. It was as infuriating as it was noble and endearing.

      The attack came from in front of them, from the bookstore, wiping all thoughts of uncommonly brave redheaded Gryffindors from her mind. There was a rush of air in front of them and a sharp *thwack* as a long, gray arrow imbedded itself in the ground at Ron's feet. Ron dove to the ground, pulling Padma with him. He hissed in pain as a new patch of blood began to spread on the back of his shirt. He had torn open his stitches.

      "Stop shooting!" Padma took the risk of yelling. "We don't want to fight!"

      "Put the gun in your bag and zip it shut!" came the reply. It was a boy's voice, Padma thought she almost recognized it, but she couldn't make a positive ID. Looking up, she saw a figure perched on the top of the bookstore, wielding what looked like a bow and arrows. But she still couldn't see who it was.

      "Who are you?"

      "Put the gun away!" the boy shouted, drawing back another arrow. Padma quickly stuffed the CZ-75 into her bag and zipped it shut.

      "Now stand up slowly."

      Padma did as instructed, helping Ron to his feet. The stitches in his leg had also popped, releasing a thin stream of blood there as well. He gritted his teeth against the pain.

      "Put your hands on your heads, and come in here _very slowly_."

      Padma shot a questioning glance at Ron, who did his best to shrug. He seemed to be thinking the same thing she was. They could have been dead already. No reason to lure them inside just to kill them. The group was probably peaceful, just cautious. As slowly as they dared, keeping their hands firmly on their heads, they headed into the bookstore.

      Four students greeted them inside, all ready to attack if provoked. Su Li (Female Student 4, Ravenclaw) held a kitchen knife with a blade that had to be about a foot long, Allison Moon (Female Student 15, Hufflepuff) pointed a gun much like Padma's - though smaller - at Ron, Michael Corner (Male Student 2, Ravenclaw) brandished a large revolver, and Megan Jones (Female Student 11, Hufflepuff) covered Padma with a gun so long she had to hold it with two hands.

      As soon as they saw who it was, Su and Michael dropped their weapons. Su ran to Padma and hugged her. The others hesitated briefly, but finally lowered their weapons.

      "Padma! You're all right!" Su said.

      "Yeah," Padma said, smiling.

      "You...heard about Susanna and Kevin?" Michael asked.

      "What?" Padma asked. "What happened?"

      "You didn't hear the announcement?" Su asked.

      "They're not..."

      Michael nodded gravely. "And that's not the worst of it. Zacharias found their bodies last night and..."

      "Zacharais?" Ron interrupted him, "Zacharais Smith? He's the one up on the roof?" The others nodded. 

      "I should have know," Ron hissed, limping over to a chair and collapsing in it.

      "Well he was wandering the island last night and he found them in a house near the eastern shore. He said...it looked like they killed each other."

      "No..." Padma gasped.

      "Suicide?" Ron asked.

      Michael shook his head. "He didn't think so. He said Susanna shot Kevin and he killed her with some kind of poison gas. We don't know if they were fighting or..."

      "Or if they just got jumpy and attacked before they saw who they were attacking." Megan said.

      Padma sank into another chair, devastated by the news of her friends' deaths. After a moment, she began taking medical supplies out of her bag, intending to take her mind off the news by dressing Ron's wounds again. Ron dutifully rolled up his pants leg. The others cringed as Padma rubbed the bullet hole with alcohol and began to sew it closed again.

      "Who shot you, Ron?" Allison asked, trying not to watch the needle going in and out of his leg.

      "Malfoy," Ron said through clenched teeth. Tricked me into thinking he was scared, then shot me in the back. If that little bastard comes around here, kill him. He'd do the same to you."

      "So Malfoy's playing," Su said, "But he can't be the only one. Goyle and Sally-Ann Perks were killed while he was still in the classroom. And someone attacked me last night, too. You see why we have to be careful."

      Ron glared at her as he removed his second blood-soaked shirt in as many days to let Padma get at the other bullet hole. Careful or not, he wasn't about to cut Zacharais any slack for slinging arrows at him.

      "How did you all wind up here?" Padma asked.

      "When I first got out of the school, I just ran like hell," Michael said. "But after a while I calmed down and doubled back to the school. I thought if I could get the other Ravenclaws together, we could find a way out. I missed a bunch of us because I'd run so far, but I managed to get there just when Su was coming out."

      "I didn't know what to think at first," Su Li took up the story. "I was terrified, and there was Michael trying to get me to come with him. I didn't know if it was true or if he just wanted to kill me. And then someone shot at me."

      "Did you see who it was?" Ron asked.

      Michael shook his head. "I couldn't see their face; it was too dark. I'm pretty sure it was a girl though. I'm guessing she was waiting to kill everybody who came out."

      "God..." Padma whispered. Of course, she should have guessed from the bodies by the school that someone had laid ambush outside. But more than one of her classmates being so cruel as to think of waiting by the entrance to pick others off one by one was unthinkable. Yet according to Su and Michael, that was exactly the situation.

      "Anyway, she was shooting at me," Su continued, "It sounded like maybe a shotgun. I hadn't even had a chance to get my weapon out, not that it would have helped much." She frowned at the kitchen knife in her hand. "I'm just lucky her first shot missed."

      "I saw her shoot and miss, but all I had was these," Michael reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of wooden clubs attached by a short length of chain, Nunchucks. 

      "So what did you do?" Ron asked.

      "The only thing I could think of," Michael replied. "I threw my flashlight at her."

      "You hit her?"

      "Right on the head," Michael nodded. "She went down, whoever she was, and Su and I got the hell out of there."

      "You didn't check who it was?" Ron asked.

      "I didn't know how long she'd be out," Michael said. "Didn't seem worth the risk, you know."

      "So that's how you two got together," Ron said. "Where do the rest of you come in?"

      Before anyone had a chance to finish the story, Zacharias Smith (Male Student 13, Hufflepuff) came down the stairs from the roof. 

      "11:58," he said. "Time for the announcement." He seemed to notice the new arrivals for the first time. "Ron, you're bleeding."

      Given the circumstances, Ron thought he deserved some degree of praise for not strangling Zacharais right then.

      A few minutes later, Professor Phalanx's magically amplified voice rang out.

      "Hello again boys and girls! Let's get down to business. We only had a few deaths this morning. Ladies first, No. 10, Blaise Zabini and No. 6, Millicent Bulstrode. For the boys, No. 7, Theodore Nott. You kids seem to have lost that killing edge you had last night. Six hours and only three dead? I expect better performance in the future. After all, the sooner someone wins the sooner we can all go home. Well...except for the losers of course. Well in any case, here are the next three forbidden zones. B=10 from 1300, C=7 from 1500, and F=6 from 1700. That's it for now. Now get your little bums in gear and make this a game worth watching!"

**29 Students Remaining**

      Vincent Crabbe (Male Student 6, Slytherin) put away his map and crept to the door of the shack he had been hiding in. The road that ran past the shack looked empty. He had been heading west, back toward the town, when the announcement started, and had ducked into the first building he found to mark his map in relative safety. Now he was a little nervous about coming out, but he had no choice. According to the map, he was in Sector B=10. In an hour, this would be a forbidden zone. He had no choice but to move.

      Vincent had no real strategy, and hadn't had one since the early hours of the morning, when he had stumbled out of the school to find Goyle already dead. The closest thing to a plan that he did have was to find Draco Malfoy. Draco was, after all, the smartest and most capable guy Vincent had ever known. Surely he'd be able to find a way out of this mess. Unfortunately he had no way of finding Draco, except to wander from one end of the island to another and hope they bumped into each other before he had to use his one bullet.

      He had received a gun in his bag, but it was a tiny little thing, made to fit in the palm of a person's hand, meaning that Vincent could have held two in his palm. Worse, it only held one bullet and his bag contained no extra ammunition. This 'derringer' had to be the single most useless weapon in the entire game. (Of course, if he could have talked to Hannah Abbot, or the dead Millicent Bulstrode he might have reconsidered that assessment.)

      He moved cautiously out onto the road and resumed his course west, moving at a somewhat quicker pace than before. Sure, he had an hour to get to safety, but in his mind, the zone border (which of course wasn't marked anywhere on the actual island, just the map) kept moving farther away. He couldn't shake the feeling that any second now, B=10 would go forbidden with him still inside it. The collar around his neck seemed to be shrinking, cutting off his air. He picked up his pace, trying to breath as he felt the collar grow tighter and heavier. Maybe this was how the collars killed stragglers, by constricting until the offender's head just popped off or they suffocated. But hadn't the professor said they exploded?

      Without realizing it, he was running full out down the road, gasping for breath. He didn't slow down until he burst out of the trees into an open field. Dimly, he remembered that sector B=10 was made up entirely of forest. If he was out in the open, that meant he was out of the danger zone. He fell to the ground. The pressure on his neck went away (or perhaps the collar had never really been shrinking at all) and he drew huge breaths of sweet, cool air.

      Vincent didn't know how long he lay there, completely exposed, unable to move. Eventually, he forced himself to calm down. Professor Phalanx's warning echoed in his mind; _if twenty-four hours pass without a death, or if there is more than one student left alive seventy-two hours after the start of the game, all of your collars will detonate automatically._ The collar weighed less than a pound, but it may as well have been a hundred-pound weight around his neck. He had to get out; he had to get this collar off. And there was only one way to do that...

      _Kill them._

_      No mercy._

_      Kill or die._

_      Kill them all._

      He had no choice. If he wanted to live the others would have to die. And despite his less than favorable weapon, he would have to make sure they died soon.__

_      Two days left._

_      Kill them._

_      No mercy._

No time to find Draco now. Draco would only kill him anyway. They all would. Everyone in the game was his enemy and if he didn't kill them one of them would kill him, or his head would explode when the time ran out!__

_      Kill or be killed!_

_      No mercy!_

_      Two days left!_

_      Kill!_

_      KILL!_

_      KILL THEM ALL!_

      His mind completely lost, the mantra of kill or be killed running through his head, Vincent Crabbe picked up his gear and went out hunting.

**29 Students Remaining**

      Neville Longbottom couldn't hide anymore. He had been huddled in a utility shed at the edge of the woods since last night. He kept hearing guns go off. Now and then, people would pass by his hiding place. Every time, he was terrified that whoever it was would come inside. Another confrontation was the last thing Neville wanted. 

      He had tried so hard to be brave for once in his life. When he found the so-called 'bulletproof' vest in his bag, he had actually believed he could make a difference. That he could be a hero like Harry always did. So he had tried to make contact with Susan Bones when he ran into her on the cliff, hoping that she would join him and together they could recruit others and maybe find a way out of this game. Instead, she shot him. The vest did stop the bullets, but each shot felt like a kick in the chest from an exceptionally large horse. To his embarrassment, he passed out. When he woke, Susan was dead, with a giant hole in the back of her head, and her weapon was gone along with his bag. With no map, he had no way to keep track of the forbidden zones; he could wander into one and never know it...until his head blew up.

      So he stayed put. But that was no better as strategies went. For all he knew, he might be in one of the zones about to go forbidden. He needed to find someone who wouldn't try to kill him. But he was too scared to try contacting anyone else.

      Stay or go? He took a chance either way. As far as forbidden zones went, he was no safer huddled in here than walking around out there. And out there he had the vest to protect him from bullets, as long as any attackers aimed for his chest. Wait to die here, or take a chance at dying out there. It didn't look good either way. At least outside he had the chance of running into someone friendly. In here all he could do was wait to die.

      Nodding to himself, Neville stood up, feeling pins and needles in his legs. He had been huddled in the same position all night. Outside the shed was an intersection where two of the island's dirt roads crossed each other. He took the road that led south; no particular reason except that the episode with Susan and...whoever had happened on the northern side of the island.

      After traveling south for a few minutes, Neville stopped. He had heard a rustling in the bushes ahead of him. It might just be a squirrel... Or it might be another student.

      Now Neville was in a real quandary. Calling to the student in the bushes that he was unarmed and non-combatant didn't seem like too smart an idea. But if he ran, he would be turning his back on someone who might very well be a killer. And he bore no illusions that there was _anybody_ on the island who he could outrun. The best he could do was pull his school robes closed to cover the bullet holes in his shirt (no sense letting everyone know a shot in the chest wouldn't work) and continue walking. No one had leapt out yet, so maybe it _was_ just an animal moving around in there.

      And then again, maybe not! Neville jumped back as Wayne Hopkins (Male Student 12, Hufflepuff) stood up out of the bushes. He held a gun remarkably similar to what Susan had carried, not the exact same model, but definitely the same basic type. But the gun wasn't what caused Neville's fear; it was the look in Wayne's eyes. He had a wild look in his eyes, accompanied by a manic grin and slight twitch in the face.

      "Neville..." he said, a slight giggle in his voice. Neville was struck by the horrible thought that Wayne had lost it.

      "Wayne, put down the gun," Neville said urgently.

      "Should have known..." Wayne went on as if he hadn't even heard Neville. "Should have known we'd end up like this..."

      "What are you talking about?" Neville asked. "How could you know?"

      "It's just like in the real world," Wayne said. "Once you get out of school. This is what they mean when they say dog-eat-dog. Every man for himself." He frowned slightly. "Never wanted to believe that... No choice now..."

      "Don't do this Wayne..."

      "Got no choice!" he snapped. "Don't you see? No choice! No rules! No escape! No choice! No choice!"

      "Wayne no!"

      But Wayne had already lifted his gun; he was going to fire. And the way his hands were shaking, Neville couldn't count on the bullets hitting the protected area of his chest. There was only one thing he could do. He ran forward, catching Wayne off-guard, and tried to tackle him. What Neville couldn't see through the foliage - especially with all his attention focused on the gun - was the twelve-foot drop behind Wayne. Some might have called it a hill, though it was nearly vertical. They went over the edge, half-falling half-rolling to the bottom.

      Thanks to his armor cushioning his fall, Neville managed to be the first one up. Wayne's gun lay at his feet. He grabbed it just as the other boy got to his feet. Now there was terror mixed with the madness in Wayne's expression. Neville aimed the gun at Wayne, but kept his finger off the trigger. Now that he had the upper hand, there was a chance for the situation to end peacefully, if he could just talk Wayne down.

      But he never got the chance. Seeing the gun in Neville's hands, Wayne reached into his school robes and pulled out a huge folding knife, flicking it open with one swift motion.

      "Think you got me unarmed?" he cried, an edge of mad laughter in his voice. "Found this in a little shop last night! Always be prepared, right Neville?"

      "Wayne don't!"

      "I told you! I TOLD YOU ALREADY! I GOT NO CHOICE!"

      "Wayne! NO!" But before he even said that much, Wayne was charging him, raising the knife over his head.

      There are times when, despite all good intentions, contrary to all common sense, instinct takes over. Standing there at the bottom of the hill, with a knife about to be driven into his head, Neville Longbottom began operating on instinct for just one second. But one second was all it took. With his eyes squeezed shut, he brought up the gun and pulled the trigger. A half-dozen lead slugs flew from the gun and buried themselves in Wayne Hopkins' chest and abdomen. Wayne gasped in shock, somehow unable to believe what had just happened. Neville opened his eyes and saw the knife fall from Wayne's hand and he staggered backward, and then collapsed.

      A moment later, Neville dropped the gun and fell to his knees. Something horrible was rising up in his mind, trying to push every rational thought away.

      _I killed him! I killed him! I killed him!_

      He wanted to scream, cry, do anything other than sit there in silence. But he had the feeling that if he screamed or anything like that, he could end up just as crazy as Wayne had been. Neville clung to that thought. It was the game, the game had done this to them. The game and the people behind it. Wayne was right about one thing; they didn't have a choice. Or at least, Professor Phalanx and the others didn't want them to. They wanted him to go crazy; either sit here whimpering until someone picked him off, or take the gun and mow down as many more of his classmates as he could. 

      Neville looked at the body of Wayne Hopkins. Just yesterday, Wayne had been a normal kid, a nice guy, good at herbology, a huge Quidditch fan who could barely ride a broomstick, but he cheered at every match. Now he was dead. Someone had to pay. The panicked voice was gone, but a new voice was telling Neville to get out of there. Anyone who was trying to win the game would come to the sound of gunfire, hoping to take down the weakened survivor of a fight. Besides, with the time limit hanging over their heads it only made sense to go where you knew people were. That meant someone was probably on their way here already. He had to act fast. But first, he went to where Wayne lay and gently closed the dead boy's eyes.

      "I'm sorry Wayne. You didn't give me a choice."

      He folded the knife Wayne had dropped and shoved it into his pocket before picking up the gun. He found Wayne's bag at the top of the hill, with all the forbidden zones marked on the map. Feeling at once a little better about his situation and a lot worse, Neville resumed his course south.

**28 Students Remaining**


	8. Chapter Eight

**12 Students Dead - 28 Students Remaining**

      Victoria Frobisher moved quickly through the woods, looking for the Slytherin girls. She kept her sword at the ready, knowing that if she ran into someone with a gun, her only chance would be to attack before they could. The noon announcement had included the names of her two victims, Millicent Bulstrode and Blaise Zabini, but no other girls, although someone had killed one of the Slytherin boys - Theodore Nott. Well good riddance, that guy was a pervert, and a creepy one at that. Disgusting; all of them. If anyone deserved to be here it was the Slytherins. But the fact that others were killing meant that she would have to step it up if she wanted to kill the rest of the Slytherin girls before someone else did.

      She just wanted to kill the last three; after that it didn't matter much what happened to her. Oh, she would keep fighting, but it was no big deal if she didn't win. And to be honest, she doubted she had the strength to take out some of the boys. The winner would probably be Harry Potter or Ron Weasley. Vicky smiled at the thought of those two. They were easily the cutest guys in the sixth year, _and_ they were both nice guys; well, Ron could be a bit of a jerk sometimes, but he was decent enough. Both had also accomplished things that were beyond some full grown wizards. Of course, she couldn't really see either of them playing to win. That left Draco Malfoy; Vicky could easily see him as willing to kill, and he had what it took to win. If she had to choose, she would rather be killed by someone like Harry or Ron than by Draco, if she had to die. But in any case, she wasn't going to die just yet. First she had three dirty bitches to kill. And one of them was already in her sights.

      Tracey Davis (Female Student 7, Slytherin) was seated on a picnic table in the middle of a sunny clearing. She sat cross-legged on the top of the table with her back to Vicky. Her bag lay open next to her, along with a bottle of water and a half-eaten roll. Evidently, Tracey had decided this would be a safe spot to stop for lunch.

      Vicky smiled, creeping ever closer to the oblivious girl. She couldn't see Tracey's weapon, but she figured if she could sneak up behind her and stab her in the back, she wouldn't have a chance to use it anyway. Closer now, she was almost in the clearing, just a little closer and...

      CRACK

      Vicky froze in horror as a twig snapped beneath her feet. It sounded as loud as a gunshot to her. Tracey spun around, raising her weapon, a twelve-gauge shotgun and aiming it at the intruder. Determined not to give the other girl a chance to fire, Vicky charged with her sword held high. But Tracey was faster. She brought the gun level and fired. With an explosive sound that echoed over the entire island, the gun blew hundreds of lead pellets at Vicky. Most of them missed but at least a dozen tore into Victoria's left side, just below the ribs. Pain like nothing she had ever felt before shot through her. It was as if someone was holding a lit candle in her stomach. She doubled over, staggering back a few steps and nearly dropping her sword.

      "You crazy little bitch! What the hell?" Tracey screamed. She was fumbling with a small plastic cartridge, trying to jam it into the shotgun's chamber. Ignoring her pain in favor of eliminating her enemy, Vicky charged again. She made it to the table and swung at Tracey's legs. Tracey did the only thing she could think of in response and blocked with her gun. Neither swing was very good; the sword clanged off the metal of the gun without doing any damage, but the force of the blows knocked both weapons out of their owner's hands. Knowing that if Victoria got ahold of either of the weapons, the fight would end with her death, Tracey leaped off the table and tackled the unarmed Gryffindor. The two enemies rolled around on the grass, trading mostly ineffective blows, until Tracey got the upper hand. She ended up on top of Victoria with her hands wrapped around her throat just above her control collar, and began to squeeze.

      "Trying to win, are you? Worthless little bitch!" Tracey said through clenched teeth. "Points for effort, though!"

      Vicky couldn't breathe. Though she was on the petite side of average, Tracey seemed to have a lot of strength in her hands. She gripped Vicky's throat so tightly that not a wisp of air could get through. She could barely hear Tracey taunting her, still making fun of her even as she killed her. The hands on her throat remained but their owner was shrinking into the distance as blackness swallowed up the clearing.

      "Must suck!" Tracey said, "Can't even stab someone in the back properly! A loser like you doesn't even deserve to live!"

      _NO!_ It wasn't supposed to end like this! Vicky clung stubbornly to consciousness, knowing that if she blacked out she would never wake up. Her sword was too far away to grab; so was the gun. She tried to hit Tracey, but she couldn't put any strength behind the blows. Her arm fell onto her bag. Her bag! With the last of her strength, Vicky reached into the open bag, groping for the only thing that could save her life. Her hand closed around the cool metal and she swung her arm, putting her entire body behind it. The long metal knitting needle (Blaise Zabini's weapon) went in one side of Tracey's neck and burst out the other, showering Vicky with hot blood. The pressure left her neck as Tracey fell back. She tried to scream but only managed a wet gurgle as arterial blood spilled from her mouth in a bright red foam. Vicky caught her breath, then wrenched the needle out of Tracey's neck, pushed the dying girl over onto her back and plunged the needle into her face, over and over. She lost track of time, but by the time she came back to her senses Tracey was no longer recognizable as such. Her face, once the prettiest Slytherin had to offer, had become a puddle of blood, skin, broken teeth, and splinters of bone. Needless to say, she was quite dead.

      Vicky stood up. As the adrenaline began to wear off, the pain in her side flared to life. It was like a runner's cramp magnified a million times and then heated to boiling. She could barely bring herself to look at the wound. The buckshot had gouged a few sizeable holes in the flesh of her abdomen, but as far as she could tell, it hadn't hit any organs. She would probably be all right.

      Moving a little slower than she would have liked, Vicky put her sword and the knitting needle back into her bag, along with Tracey's extra ammunition. Then she loaded the shotgun with as many shells as it would hold and limped back into the forest.

      Three down. Two to go.

      **27 Students Remaining**

      Harry looked up and down the beach, checking for any signs of danger. Eventually, deciding it was safe, he nodded to Hermione. Together they set off, moving quickly and staying low, across the sand. They had been at this all day, moving from one spot of cover to the next. So far they hadn't run into anyone, unless you counted the bullet-riddled body of Theodore Nott. Some sicko had shot him in the crotch before finishing him off with two to the chest. Harry didn't like to point fingers, especially in a situation where paranoia and suspicion were his worst enemies. But he had no trouble imagining Malfoy shooting a friend in the bollocks just for fun. But he could be wrong. And that was perhaps the saddest thing of all. If he could have pinned all the killing going on around him on Malfoy, that would make things nice and simple. But Harry knew better. There were others playing the game as well, a lot of others. So much for Hogwarts students standing together in the face of adversity.

      As the afternoon wore on, he and Hermione steadily made their way south toward the beach. They had no real goal, except maybe to find Ron. Despite the fact that he was clearly injured, none of the announcements so far had contained his name, so he was still alive. Someone must have taken care of him, healed his wounds in the clinic. It had taken Harry a while to stop beating himself up over that one. If they had left for the clinic last night like Hermione suggested, Ron would still have been there when they arrived.

      "We don't know that," Hermione insisted. "If we went last night we might have been killed before we even got there."

      Harry appreciated her attempt to make him feel better. But it didn't change the fact that his best friend was out there injured and possibly alone because Harry had been too damn cautious.

      Eventually another problem intruded on Harry's attention. He was starving. Well after all, he hadn't eaten anything since the start of the game. Hermione looked hungry too so Harry suggested that they find someplace safe and try to eat something. The maps said there were some houses on the beach. They decided that a beach house would be a good place to stop and eat because they could see anyone who tried to approach.

      They crept up to the nicest of the houses. The front door was ajar, the lock broken. Harry and Hermione moved quickly through the house. Harry stopped when he heard someone moving up ahead of them. Cautiously, silently, they moved into the kitchen.

      Jacob Dorny (Male Student 9, Slytherin) was crouched over a bloody corpse. It took Harry a minute to recognize Blaise Zabini. She had been cut open from chest to waist. Nearby, Millicent Bulstrode was in even worse shape; she had been hacked to pieces and beheaded. The stench of blood in the air was overpowering, nauseating.

      Jacob didn't even notice their presence until he heard Harry gag at the sight of Millicent's remains. He turned to look at them, his eyes red with tears.

      "Who would do this?" he asked. "Cut them up like this?"

      "I don't know," Harry said. "I'm sorry, Jacob."

      "This is...all wrong!" Jacob said. "We shouldn't even be here!"

      "Jacob, are you alone?" Hermione asked.

      He nodded. "I waited for Draco outside the school...but I lost my nerve. I was too scared to follow him. I've been on the run since then, I came in here to hide and...and I found..."

      "Well we can't stay here," Harry said. "Whoever did this might come back."

      "Yeah..." Jacob said quietly. He whipped around, raising the biggest pistol Harry had ever seen and aiming it at them. "Or maybe they're already here!"

      "What?" Harry yelled.

      "That's crazy!" Hermione said, "Why would we..."

      "Think about it! Gryffindor, Slytherin! It's no secret you hated them, especially you Granger!"

      "Hermione didn't do it!" Harry said. "She's been with me since we left the school. This is the first time we've even been this far south."

      "Oh, and I'm to take your word for it, is that right?" Jacob asked.

      "Why don't you look at our clothes," Hermione said. "Do you think we could have done all this without getting any blood on us?"

      "There's blood on his arm!" Jacob yelled, pointing at Harry.

      "Yeah, mine! Because I nearly took a grenade from your pal Goyle!" Harry snapped back.

      "The same Goyle who's dead now! I suppose you're going to tell me you didn't have a hand in that either?"

      "I'm not the one who killed him if that's what you mean," Harry said.

      "I don't believe you, Potter!" Jacob yelled, "You hate us Slytherins. You probably couldn't wait to start killing us. Started as soon as you got out the door, didn't you?"

      "You've got it backwards!" Harry said. "Goyle tried to kill me! Then Sally-Ann knocked him out and his grenade killed both of them!"

      "Stop trying to lie to me!" Jacob thrust his huge gun at Harry. "You did it! YOU KILLED THEM ALL!"

      "I thought you said I killed Blaise and Millicent," Hermione said. The gun swung toward her. "Well which is it, Jacob? Did I kill them or did Harry?"

      "You're in it together!" Jacob replied. "You think if you help each other and kill everyone else you can both go home! Well that's not how it works! Don't you get it? None of us are going home!"

      "Well not if you keep yelling like that!" Hermione said.

      "But see, I think I've got it figured out," Jacob continued. "I don't have to go looking for people. Everyone else is out to win. Eventually they'll all come to me, just like you two. But the joke's on them," he gestured with the huge gun, pointing it back at Harry, "I'm ready for you all!"

      Harry just barely saw it; the subtle, almost imperceptible hitch in Dorny's breathing. He was going to fire. Just as he pulled the trigger, Harry ducked under the gun. The shot seemed even louder than the grenades; it was like a cannon had gone off. Harry didn't even hear the snapping of the tazer as he shoved it into the other boy's chest and pressed the trigger. Jacob gave a violent jerk and collapsed, dropping his gun in the process. The scent ozone and burnt material mingled with the smell of gunpowder, but both were still overwhelmed by the stench of blood.

      "Is he..." Harry couldn't bring himself to ask if he had killed a fellow student. Hermione pressed two fingers against Jacob's neck and shook her head.

      "He's alive," she said. "But I don't think we'll want to be here when he comes around."

      "We can't just leave him here," Harry said.

      "What other choice do we have? Wait for him to wake up and ask him to follow us when we've just attacked him and taken his weapon? He's not likely to trust that. Or do we let him keep the gun and make a little wager on how long he'll wait before shooting us in the back?"

      "I just don't like the idea of leaving him here," Harry said. "We should at least leave him the gun."

      "No, Harry. We absolutely should not," Hermione replied. "If he has the gun, he'll use it to hunt us down, or he'll kill the next innocent kid who stumbles in here. Without it, he'll probably just hide in a closet upstairs until it's all over, in which case we can come get him once we find a way out. Besides, as much as I hate to say it, we need a gun. We've been lucky so far but a stake and a stun gun won't get us very far here."

      Harry almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're not suggesting we play this game, are you?"

      "Of course not. I want to find a way for everyone to get out of here, just like you. But be realistic. A lot of people _are _playing the game. What happens if - no, _when_ we run into one of them?"

      That was, of course, the crux of the matter. Hermione was right, they had been lucky so far. He didn't want to think about what would happen when they inevitably ran into someone looking to win the game. Actually, he knew now what would happen. The same thing that had happened with Jacob, only next time he might not get the chance to fight back. The next attacker might kill him or Hermione, or both of them.

      "All right," he finally said. "But you take the gun. I'm so jumpy right now I'd probably shoot myself in the foot."

      Reluctantly, Hermione nodded and took the gun from him.

      "We'd better go," she said. Harry nodded and together they headed out the back door and back up into the woods.

      A few minutes later, Jacob Dorny woke with a start and looked around frantically for his gun. It was nowhere to be found.

      "Lose something, Jacob?"

      Jacob's heart skipped a few beats as he whirled around to see Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway from the living room, holding a large gun.

      "Draco!" he said, relieved. "Bloody hell, am I glad to see you!"

      "What the hell happened here?" Draco asked, surveying the bodies of the two girls with a look of disgust.

      "Someone killed Millicent and Blaise," Jacob said. "I think it might have been Granger. She was here, with Potter. They hit me with some kind of lightning stick and stole my gun!"

      "Potter?" Draco suddenly looked very interested. "Where did he go?"

      "I don't know, they knocked me out. They must have thought I was dead."

      "Not likely," Draco sneered. "Potter wouldn't have the stones to actually kill anyone. They probably split before you could wake up."

      "Yeah, I guess you're right," Jacob said. Already he felt better. Now that Draco was here they'd surely find a way out of this game. "So what do we do now?"

      "We?" Malfoy asked.

      "You know. To escape." Suddenly Jacob realized he didn't like the way Draco was holding that gun, only a few inches shy of pointing straight at him.

      "Who said anything about escaping?" Draco asked, swinging the gun over to point at Jacob's chest.

      "Draco...no..."

      "Sorry, mate," Malfoy said cheerfully with a nonchalant shrug, "Survival of the fittest."

      The shots rang out one after the other, each one accompanied by an explosion of fiery pain in Jacob's chest until one shot struck his spine, cutting off the pain, and all other sensations, forever.

      Draco Malfoy didn't bother searching for Jacob's supplies. He had plenty and Potter had already taken the dead boy's weapon. He stepped over the three bodies he headed for the open back door. Two sets of footprints led up into the woods at the edge of the beach. Grinning, Draco checked his ammo and followed the tracks.

**26 Students Remaining**


End file.
